To Cure a Fading Heart
by DefyingDeath222
Summary: After the Battle of the Five Armies, Legolas abandons his feelings for Tauriel only to leave him with a new cause of hurt. Legolas attempts to meet this Strider, unaware he is meeting the next king of Gondor. Will Legolas come to realize the human's true identity? And will he resolve the bitter conflict with his Adar doing so? Only time will tell. . .
1. Chapter 1

**This is takes place right after Botfa and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed creating! Disclaimer: All rights go to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien.**

** Chapter 1: Fond Farewell**

_The eve is cold and dreary_

_Yet the future holds dark days my lord_

_For thy peace will wither_

_At deaths' soft touch once more_

_It is an end, and a new beginning_

_So pack thy sacks and take thy rest once more_

_Come morrow' task and quest have ended_

_When dark descends_

_But this is never truly an end_

_For when the cold and dreary calls me_

_From my humble heart_

_I will be there to greet thee once more..._

Standing motionless, the shadowy slender silhouette of a young elven warrior caught the attention of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood.

Behind the younger elf's eyes lay a lifeless glint like ice, sending the the Elvenking's body to light shivers. Masking his emotions, he bottled them up, at heart deeply relieved his son had come back unharmed.

"I, cannot go back." Legolas coolly spoke. He blankly fixed his eyes on the opposite wall. Betrayal... It caused his stomach to twist into knots; a different type of suffering than he was used to. One his young free-spirited soul had never been prepared for.

"And where will you go?" Thranduil whispered, the words torn from his mouth.

"I do not know."

"Go to the North. Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him."

Pausing, the king twitched slightly, an action not gone unnoticed by the other. "His father, Arathorn, was a good man. He might turn out to be an even greater one."

"What is his name?" the younger elf asked, averting his eyes.

"He is known in the wild as Strider. His true name...you must discover for yourself."

Silence and a sigh of recognition.

"I understand. Farewell...father."

"Aye ionneg before you depart...your mother loved you very much."

A cold silence.

Pivoting on his heels to continue walking, the lonely elf prince made a small gesture with his hands that was returned by the emotionless King. It was a symbol of recognition. Pure devotion to one that directed his path wherever he wished, with just a flick of the hand.

**oOo**

Beautiful white snowflakes descended softly upon the once green earth. Its appearance however went unnoticed by the Elves and other creatures that loved it dearly. But now as the harmless white frost cascaded innocently to the ground, all that was felt was its icy sting. The snow coated blanket made it difficult for soldiers to look for fallen brothers. And the breeze nipped at their faces, as if promising that this was not a dream, but the reality of war.

With the battle of the five armies now over, the devastation of it was clear. Bodies littered the ground whether they were Orcs, Men, Elves, Dwarves, or Goblins. But all in all it was a truly horrific sight to behold.

Legolas glanced outside and winced. The sight of what had befallen below the mountain was devastating, sadness pulsating from the survivors.

"Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wanath," Legolas recited slowly in prayer. It was not an uncommon sight for the elf to witness, but with every glimpse brought fear, for he was young. The snow had hidden most of the devastation of the battle, the only thing he was grateful for.

Brushing a piece of golden hair that had fallen between his clear blue eyes with the flick of his fingers, he sighed in lament. The icy wind tousled his already ruined hair, brushing his serious-lined face.

He was still a bit winded from his combat with Bolg whilst protecting Tauriel, the bitter feelings of the memory still fresh. But he casted them aside.

At once, he made his way down the slippery slope to where Thorin Oakenshield lay.

**oOo**

The Dwarf lord was a ghastly sight, pale as the winter that enveloped him. He would move no more and Bilbo lay sniffling, holding onto him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

Legolas was not surprised in the slightest. Bilbo seemed like the one to have an open heart for making _friends_. The short creature was extremely humble as well, even disobeying the stone King for his own good.

Legolas had reluctantly taken a petty liking to the Hobbit since the first time he laid eyes on the strange being. He himself had never seen Hobbits (Shire-folk they were called according to Bilbo) in all of his long years of warfare. He found it surprising that this lowly insignificant creature could manage to slip in and out under Mirkwood's finest security, leading to the company's escape.

The vague memory had been an insult, for his fortress was well defensed and that such a thing had not occured in less than a millenia. Following therafter, Thranduil had not taken the news lightly, burning in silent anger, before doubting Legolas's ability to contain them with long lectures of his failed expectations.

He chuckled quietly to himself as he made his way down. Bilbo's sense of rebelliousness seemed to spur old memories of himself and the king.

Being careful not to slip and keep whatever dignity he still possessed, he jumped on a ledge opposite Bilbo.

"Man le trasta, Bilbo? Is your heart at peace?"

Bilbo glanced up at the calm voice. "Can you not see around you? Most of my friends walk with the dead now and Thorin...it is rather obvious inn'it?"

The Hobbit made a tiny coughing noise that Legolas could not comprehend. It made him doubt whether he was helping Bilbo or making him feel worse. "Do as you will," Legolas replied, puzzled, and turned away.

"W-wait."

The prince froze. A trembling warm hand lay on his arm. His first instinct was to remove it but his consideration kept him from being rude.

"I did not mean to make you uncomfortable but grief seems to have taken a toll on my personality." A broken smile made its way onto the hobbits' face.

Ignoring the expression, Legolas fixed his eyes on a bare frost-kissed tree. He was no good with emotions, barely revealing any himself, other than the cheery mask he wore from time to time.

Bilbo, puzzled by the elfs' sudden interest, took the time to study Legolas's unwavering features. White frost collected on the flawless elf's long eyelashes, making him utterly divine in comparison to his muscular body.

Breaking the awkward silence, Bilbo spoke.

"There is something bothering you as well isn't there? I'm not much but I could listen. As you are the son of Thranduil, I respect your privacy. But won't you tell to take my mind off my fallen friends?"

Legolas knew he had to give some sort of answer. But a lie would not suffice.

"Aye, it seems you give me no choice Baggins of the Shire." Legolas bowed his head, returning the act of respect. "My heart walks in mist and shadows, for a feeling I have never felt before has seized it."

Sighing, he hid his eyes behind his hair. He himself had never felt the way he did before now. Tauriel presently haunted him, memories rising from the ashes repeatedly.

Bilbo stared, not taking his eyes of this serene well-built warrior. It calmed his war-scarred mind, comforting him in ways he never knew before.

Legolas felt slightly out of place and gave Bilbo a jerked nod. He thought it wise to carry out his fathers orders. Pulling back his long, tussled gold hair to revert it to its original form, he gracefully jumped down.

And Bilbo watched him, eyes never leaving the elf as he leapt out of sight.

The Prince of Mirkwood was most beauteous; the only word he could think of as Legolas nimbly disappeared under the cover of winter.

"What a stubborn elf Legolas can be sometimes," chuckled a familiar voice dryly.

It startled the distracted Hobbit and he turned only to be face to face with the optimistic grey wizard.

"It looks as though the Prince has inherited his ausa copy's behavior from his father."

"Gandalf! You nearly startled me to death!" Never before had Bilbo been happy enough to see his oldest and dearest friend. "Um, shall we...sit?"

At the remembrance of the King under the mountain, he felt grief overtake him once again.

His love for Thorin ate away at his soul and he was lost within deep turmoil and sadness.

Gandalf led him to a place where they could sit vigilant not too far from Thorin's fallen body. Under falling snow, winters' curse froze their tears, leaving them in empty suspense...

"It is odd how memory and love can destroy you so." Bilbo choked. The words tumbled in his mouth, his mind distracted.

Gandalf patted the hobbit on the back. "Indeed. But it is how you cope with it, that matters."

**oOo**

Standing below the mountain, Legolas stiffened, his sharp ears picking up the distinct cries of mourning everywhere he turned.

"The sound of sorrow is not one I wish to hear nor ever in my long life." he said sadly knowing this could never be truth. As a prince, he had duties to carry out as best as he could afford. For he lived to obey and tend to his king's every command. But his _heart_?

_It is the one thing my father holds no control over_. he thought, remembering the promise he had announced and kept.

Apathatically, he gave a small glance to where he had last seen Tauriel and the dwarf scum that she proclaimed as her long-lasting love. "Elves usually only love once," he muttered bitterly.

Suddenly as if he had plunged into icy depths his heart throbbed and with one swift motion, he felt as if he had been stabbed. Groaning as if he were on fire, he clenched his hands over his heaving chest. Wondering whether he was actually aflame or whether anyone noticed, ebbed the pain lightly.

He knew exactly why his technique and grace faltered. Yet, the thought of it had never once crossed his mind in the past. O' Valar, please let this not be so!

Stumbling to grab onto something, he gasped quietly as he slipped on a sheet of ice beginning to form. Reflexes taking shape, he twisted in midair, making hard contact with the cold earth, one knee out to avoid landing awkwardly. Landing in perfect form, his breath was stolen once again.

As the ringing in his ears ceased their tune, he cautiously looked around, the vast plain just as it was several moments past.

"Thank the Valar no one was around to witness my carelessness." He mumbled to himself, clearly annoyed at his unexpected flaw.

Relaxing, he spectacled that winters' chill seemed to be affecting his sense of balance. Nothing more.

He quickly got to his feet, more of his dignity wounded than physical injuries. Never one to become distracted, he remembered his task instantly, ignoring the decreasing pain in his chest. Filled with purpose, he walked over the bloodstained snow in search of his beloved steed.

This weakness troubled the elf deeply, but he had no choice but to carry on. For he despised vulnerability and would rather die before admitting he was a fragile being.

Nay. Such a thing was beyond imaginary. He was a seasoned warrior, not a porcelain doll, and should never be treated as such!

A distinct pain in his abdomen brought him back down to reality however, disintegrating his usual thoughts of duty. He groaned at the twinge of pain, holding a hand over his chest instinctively. He was emotionless; incapable to love other than the trees of home. And Tauriel—Tauriel held naught for him, other than simply a companion or _mellon_.

_Is this why these memories plague me? _

Taking deep breaths, his breath hitched in his lungs and he muttered coldly. "This Strider better be worth the time and pain I am burdened with."

Ionneg- Son

Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wanath - May they find peace after death

**I hope you enjoyed my first chapter! This story is also available on Wattpad with pictures and some music at DefyingDeath. Just thought I should mention and thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Many Partings**

Thranduil, the shining Elvenking of Mirkwood, walked on away from his son. He tilted his head a little, wondering why he had revealed a little bit of his past. It mattered not, but what had compelled him to take such action?

Pushing it away, he gracefully twirled, his long silken hair flowing behind his flawless steel armor. He had much better things to attend to.

At the sound of intense weeping, he listened half-heartedly knowing immediately who it was. Finally making the decision to follow the sound he paced toward the brightness of day at the end of the ruin.

What he found, was all too predictable. Tauriel was half-sprawled with longing across a dwarf that he knew all too well. Her face was filled with grime and her once well-kept warrior outfit was destroyed. It was not fit for a woodland she-elf. Not noticing the king's grand entrance, she sobbed as if the fires of Mordor were scorching her as she lay.

"Tauriel..." The King looked at the frost enveloping the dead Dwarf, trying desperately to hide a look of disgust.

Surprised that she had been discovered, the eleth frightfully looked up. She frowned but almost immediately her face turned bleak with defeat.

"Why does it hurt so much?" She whimpered sarcastically. No longer one of Mirkwood, as she had been banished earlier, she no longer held a sense of respect for her once king.

Trying to remain his calm composure, Thranduil straightened up, back to his formal status. "Because it was real," he answered curtly.

Cocking his head to one side, his mind was riddled with confusion as to why he uttered the strange simple words. When did that spilled from his mouth? Not wanting to enrage the warrior even further he kept his mouth shut. Tauriel looked up but could not, nor ever read the Elvenking's even features. She merely returned one last miserable look before kissing Kili lightly on his now stiff, lifeless lips.

Thranduil expertly hid a smirk. Look at where love always ended. At the brink of death. Looking on, he replayed old forgotten memories he had believed to be deceased.

**oOo**

Containing a small sneeze, Legolas followed the men of Dale to located Bard their savior and leader. But the immense massacre over the battlefield took his breath away. From far atop the mountaintop it did not seem to be this great in numbers. At the sight of his own fallen kin his legs turned to stone. The stench of blood caused him to gag but he remained cool and collect, prideful in how his men had fought for their king till the end.

One man, a bowman going by the roughness of his hands, with dark scraggly brown hair and war ridden clothing was clinging to his three young children. The bowmen's strong love for them warmed the prince's heart and he padded toward him with understanding. He had found the man he had been searching for.

"Da? The person who rescued us at Laketown is approaching. Is it faery-folk?" She whispered trying to contain a broken smile. Catching the innocent question, Legolas smiled secretly. The littlest one was young but mature for her age, having gone through the tough ordeal of war. She smiled back longingly, as if she hadn't seen such beauty in a long time.

Legolas introduced himself. "It is I, the prince of Mirkwood, merely an acquaintance of your father. Savo 'lass a lalaith, for it is over young ones."

The children grew silent, unable to understand but comforted at the strange melodic speech. The oldest, a young woman, put a comforting hand around both her younger siblings. "Da we will leave you now to tend to your business." She curtsied, her battered skirt dusting the rotten ground. The rest of the family also attempted to pay their respect.

Legolas nodded and all but playfully pulled Bard up, causing Bard to stagger and children to snicker. "'Twas unnecessary, for it should be me to bow before the great dragonslayer of Laketown." He knelt slowly, head down. His stunning gold hair tumbled down his sleek face. "Can you spare some of your men to search for my travel companion?"

"Aye." Bard complied and sent a few of his men to search for Silevon. Returning to his people, he turned away without so much of a glance in Legolas' direction.

Finding the nearest tree from Dale, Legolas scurried up it, feeling at home with the comfort this tree was giving within him. It was a thin tree of about 30 ft and Legolas for the first time faltered, not used to trees outside of Mirkwood. This took him by surprise and he whispered soft words to it in elvish hoping it would help him become acquainted.

The chilling wind blew through Dale, caressing his slender body. Exhausted, he unknowingly drifted off, his head falling peacefully.

**oOo**

Bard watched the bewitching sight of the elf sleeping in a tree. It was quite unusual, yet stunning as Legolas's hair danced in the breeze. He sighed. Bard the Dragonslayer. Is that what everyone would adress him as now? He knew his entire life would change from this moment on, but he was too humble to boast of such tidings.

**oOo**

Legolas was awakened abruptly with his hair annoyingly blowing across his face. Noticing winters wind had changed but not knowing how much time passed, he snapped up fully awake now. A beautiful sight awaited him, the setting sun, sky filled with oranges and pinks, had been painted into something he rarely saw in Mirkwood.

A loud cough from below shattered his tranquility. "Ahem. Excuse me my liege but your horse has been found!" An impatient gruff voice called up to him.

Not wanting to be interrupted from the landscape before him, Legolas merely nodded hoping whoever it was could see him.

"I wasted a lot of time searching for this stubborn beast because I believed Silevon to be an elf companion of yours. I did not recall you specifying," the man replied sarcastically. "He has been thrown ough war it seems without so much as a scratch!"

Disturbed, Legolas looked down to find a man of rugged features roaring up to him in annoyance. The man was poorly dressed for winter with only a battered sheet to keep him covered from the biting air. He was battle-scarred and his arrogance, or was it jealously, made Legolas grit his teeth. Beside him an angelic white stallion calmy stood, observing the man's every move, flicking its mane every so often as if to process whether his master was being taunted.

"Aye, it's because I left him near the outskirts of the battle," Legolas softly responded, hiding a grin.

Angered but determined not to show it, the man scowled. "Well, here is your despicable beast. Now leave us to mourn our dead and feast later tonight. Not everyone can enjoy the luxuries of a warm bed and withstand the bitter cold like you," he said curtly giving the horse a nudge with the back of his hand.

And with the startling whoosh of the man's ragged sheet, he turned sharply with a look of pure loathing at how extremely lucky and perfect the elf was. Rounding a corner, he slipped behind one of Dales' decaying buildings as quiet as a mouse, observing the elf and his agile movements with interest.

**oOo**

Bard, looking up from his work on restoring Dale, realized that Legolas was no longer in among the trees. Where had he run off to? Wiping his raw hands onto his leather clothing, he glanced among his people. After some time, he spotted a hint of gold among the crowd and shuffled through them, heading towards the faint light.

"I see you have come to bid me well on my journey."

Bard jumped, the voice issuing from directly behind. And there was Legolas, twin knives unsheathed, casting a gold reflection in the direction Bard had been heading. His eyes were slightly dull with sadness; a peculiar grief that could not have been caused from the war. For all he knew, no one close to the prince had fallen into death.

"Aye?" stammered Bard uneasily. "You are rather sneaky my friend, and I am glad I won't be seeing you anymore to stir up trouble with that brazen king of yours."

Legolas only tilted his head to the left, his twinkling eyes filling with mirth. "Nay, if my father is brazen, then I am even more so."

Bard chuckled and clapped him on the back. "I wish you well for you and Tauriel with all my heart. I don't know how she puts up with you."

Legolas's eyes suddenly grew distant as he returned the gesture. "Novaer, boe annin gwad. I must go," he simply replied.

The elf filled his quiver with fresh arrows and elegantly wrapped his green mantle around his shoulders. His actions were swift, nimble even. Whatever the darkness that cursed the elf, did not arise externally. So what was the pain that hid behind those once piercing eyes?

Whistling alluringly, Legolas acknowledged his beast. Silevon paused, swishing its' mane and tail boldly, as if to show off, and gently head-butted its master.

The sudden movement caused Legolas to flinch in surprise and he grasped the only thing closest to him for support. Bards' arm.

The bowman jumped, clearly startled and instinctively thrust a hand out to balance the enticing elf. However, Legolas instantly pulled back at the touch, all the while twisting gracefully to avoid another assault. Laughing silently at Bard's strange expression, the elf stroked his horse in distraction.

Silevon then gently nudged Bard with its rough snout as if to boast of its masters swiftness. The action was warm, a nuzzle even.

Bard grinned at the thought of how his children would react to such a magnificent creature. He had never seen such an opulent stee other than Thranduil's graceful elk. The two grand beasts were property of royalty; of the elves.

"May I?" he asked Legolas tentatively, wanting permission.

The elf nodded and quietly whispered in fluent elven tongue, the words like a flowing river of eloquence.

The horse submitted to the immediate order. And exhaling his held breath, Bard gently caressed its neck and mane, marveling at the smooth complexion and how much care the horse received.

"He is most beauteous." He could only answer.

_Most similar to his rider_, the bowman added almost too quickly. Shaking the childish thought away as quickly as could manage, he glanced warily at the prince, wondering if he could read his actions.

Legolas however stood motionless. The only moving part of his body were his eyes, scanning the vast cold horizon. Noticing the fading of the glum winter light, he snapped out of his trance and mounted his steed.

Bard stood at the entrance of Dale, with a calculating expression. Elves rode with no saddle, not that they needed them, for their gentle elven tongue could soothe even the largest and stubborn of beasts. But, what distracted the elf? Surely something troubled his mind?

Rearing on its hind legs, the horse took off, snow dust trailing up in rising thick clouds.

Bard could only watch, compelled at the astonishingly beautiful scene. Racing through the snow, the Prince of Mirkwood sat proudly, deadly knives on his back, upon a stallion. His lithe figure and long flaxen hair looked very much like his father's. And Legolas's mother?

Comparing the two royals abruptly reminded the bowman that he owed the Elvenking his gratitude. Perhaps he would discuss his concern with the King.

_Fare thee well. May the spirits of Valar guide your journey as well as your heart, _he thought, glancing at the king's son one last time. _These heavy partings will not be the end of us meeting again. That I promise you. _

_Farewell for now._

Vigilant once more, Bard the bowman walked gravely back into the demolished courtyard of Dale.

And Legolas, sadness gripping his heart, dissapeared into the snowy eve, headed for the woods that bore him...

Savo 'lass a lalaith - Have joy and laughter

Novaer, boe annin gwad - Farewell. I must go


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: There's No Place Like Travel**

_Where the road then takes me, I cannot tell. I came all this way but now comes the day to bid you farewell..._

Over hills, under tree, one lonely figure rode silently onwards, leaving the battlefield behind. The cold winter air stung his face as the acceleration of his riding grew.

A haunting moon rose, giving way to illuminate the path in which the rider traveled. The bright orb, piercing the dark, calmed the nature of night, leaving a peaceful silence wherever the royal figure passed.

Having already calculated the best route, Legolas hoped this journey would not last long.

He unfortunately had to pass Mirkwood, his somber homeland which had once been known as Greenwood for its beautiful trees and golden shining sun. Now fell creatures of the dark had infested his once beautiful domain. But convincing his father to rid of them was a waste of breath, for Thranduil was as tenacious as an Orc and as stubborn as a Dwarf.

He observed the starlight that now composed the sky with uninterest. He felt empty. He knew not what to do with his immortal life. By the Valar, he was already bored, wishing for the anticipation of action!

**oOo**

Finding a small place to lay camp under tree, he sat up high between them, polishing his twin knives and bow with a small silk cloth.

Although weapons, they were his pride and glory. The artistically decorated blades and bow were a gift from his father for becoming one of the finest experienced warriors. His bow had been carved from a single piece of yew, extensively garnished with a delicate tracery of gold leaves with a quiver to match. And his quiver held narrow, steel-tipped bodkins that could pierce even the thickest of armour.

A gift fit for the Prince of Mirkwood.

Legolas discarded the thought of how much they were worth. For the "love" behind the gifts was enough a price to pay. He would not have minded if his father had given him simple weapons.

Any that lay in his hands would be just as deadly.

Staring down at the bow, he remembered all too quick the vulnerability he felt when he ran out of arrows and nearly lost Tauriel.

Raising the silk cloth to wipe his face, he felt his cheeks turn slightly pink with shame.

_I was foolish to think I would not run out of arrows. By the Valar I hold an oath that I will not make the same mistake again so I can protect loved ones, _he thought to himself.

Confusion took him as soon as the words came to his mind and a brilliant flash of pain overtook his slender body. Tears almost immediately trickled down the corners of his eyes as it escalated to the extreme. Legolas stiffened, convincing himself he was suffering from the pressure of travel, nothing more. For although he knew it was not the brightest idea, he tried to ignore the real reason behind the sensation.

Knowing what was occuring brought even worse pain and he doubled over in agony. He pleaded himself for noise not to escape him, embarrased by his lack of dignity. He silently screamed into his arms. Why him? His aching head felt as if the whole of night was viciously swallowing him, the light being sucked out of him.

O' but his heart was a tangle of despaired sentiment.

He felt as if he were plunging into icy waters and then doused in cruel flames. The fading prince could feel himself losing the battle, gradually slipping into nothingness. Who could let siuch a pain exist? The last sensation he remembered was darkness, frightfully beckoning him.

And then, almost as it had begun, his flaming chest ceased without so much of a mark.

An ominous silence filled the eve.

The prince was left clawing for breath, the internal wound causing his head to spin. Not wanting to risk falling, he clung to the rough tree branch supporting his weight and let his tired body rest unto it.

Although not falling yet, his mind seemed to blur, slipping downwards.

The trees that surrounded him noticed the elf's misery and decided to assist the fair creature. They enclosed their branches around him, providing him with warmth at his touch, soothing him into a dreamless uneasy sleep.

**oOo**

The plain white stallion tossed its mane impatiently as to why his master had not responded in quite a while. Convinced Legolas wished to stay above the leaves, he lay his head below his knees near the trees' base, listening to the low stirrings of night.

Shadows moved across the ground, oblivious to the divine creature that lay above, weary from the days ordeals.

_Through shadow_

_To the edge of night_

_Until the stars are all alight_

_mist and shadow_

_cloud and shade_

_all shall fade_

_all shall fade_

Legolas tossed and turned among the leaves, his troubled thoughts making it hard to find sleep. The pain that had developed from his chest did not return again but a slight ache pulsed from where the pain had seared across his body before.

His mind wandered relentlessly over what was happening to him. It was clear that he had an unrequited love for Tauriel. For she had given up him for a foul disgusting race, the dwarves. Never had he been compared to a dwarf before and lost. It was enough to cause him heartaches and Legolas knew then and there that this was what causing his insufferable agony.

He had been sure he had been loved before but never to consistency. His father had all but forgotten Legolas once his mother had been murdered near Angmar, only acknowledging him as an heir to the throne nothing more. They rarely spent time together, only to make contact briefly during council meetings.

Realization dawned upon him that he knew absolutely nothing of his childhood, nor did his father ever tell him. Or perhaps the memory was faint and so long ago.

Sighing softly he knew he was dying. Dying of a broken heart nonetheless...

**oOo**

Reaching out to stroke his beloved weapons, he chose to forget about what happened in the cave between Tauriel and himself. Fading did not bother the lone elf in the slightest. His mind wandered off and he rolled onto his side, feeling rather comfortable among nature.

Underestimating the size of the branch that he occupied, his left leg meet empty air. With a startling grunt he plummeted downward, the enclosed leaves breaking his drop lightly.

Instinctively he clawed at the branches sliding beside him to lessen his impact. Knowing his elven reflexes could pull him out of his slight predicament, he twisted and turned, dodging larger branches. Legolas smirked. Falling out of a large tree was no challenge. With a surprising thump, his feet made contact with something unsteady and warm directly beneath him!

**oOo**

Silevon had been napping quite contently when shockingly he had awoken to a blow to his back! Rising quickly to all fours, he bucked wildly, depositing his cargo violently in front of him.

Mounting an offensive position, he raised his front legs, preparing to knock this bothersome creature unconscious with its powerful hooves.

With a frantic cry of understanding, Legolas waved his arms frantically, trying to catch his steed's attention.

"Mellon-nin, please calm yourself, I did not wish to harm you. You merely took me by surprise." he coaxed.

The royal horse lowered himself, cautiously eyeing the foolish yet dignified elf before him. Snorting wearily he trotted away, kicking up dust as he did, toward the direction of Mirkwood.

At the thought that his horse was the closest thing to a friend he had, Legolas couldn't help wondering who this Strider person was. The men of Dunedain were trackers, rangers as they were called, who were known to be brutal and even dangerous.

Legolas shuddered at the thought that he was probably heading to his death. In less than a heartbeat, he pictured his single-minded father.

Then again, Legolas would not be at all surprised if his father had sent him on a suicide mission. He dismissed the thought rather quickly however. He was foolish. He was the only heir to Mirkwood and his obsessive father would never endanger the line of his realm.

Fixed on the events ahead, his elven hearing failed to pick up the slightest padding of light footsteps that encircled his camp, observing his agile movements...

Wrapping his light elven cloak once again over himself, he mounted and applied pressure to his horses' flank, leading it into a small canter. Riding more than a couple leagues further, Legolas couldn't help but let a small smile of joy slip at the sight of the leafy canopy.

Home.

Riding into the thick bowels of Mirkwood, his eyes scanned in every direction of the forest, picking up the smallest yet strangest sound. Sliding off his horse, he stiffened, every sense in his muscular body tingling with anticipation. His homeland, whatever it meant to him, did not keep the dark creatures at bay.

Instead of terror, his mouth twitched in excitement. He was not alone. Instantly, his attitude slipped into a more dangerous appearance and he prepared for an assault. What foul creatures dared to cross his path? Either, quite foolish or did not know of him, he would end their lives just the same.

Stealthily with the exact precision of a cat, he crouched into a hunters position, unclasping his bow from his back strap. He expertly latched an arrow into his bow, preparing to release at any sign of sharp movement.

Smirking, he knew the sudden cold glint of seriousness in his eyes could freeze any regular opponent. He made a mental note to give his father his thanks for the chilling trait he had passed onto him.

What the prince did not realize then and there was that his opponent was no amateur. And the sound of sneering did not escape the princes' sharp hearing.

At once, the woods erupted in a deafening chatter of excitement. Leaves tore and swept upwards, the movement so swift, that the whole forest seemed to hold its breath in apprehension.

Due to the immense amount of shade the woods casted, Legolas cold not see, a fear that chilled his already surprised heart.

Leaving the rest to instinct, he leapt with quick precision. But as soon as the move was made, the leaves came alive and multiple shadows surrounded him, preparing to strike as well.

Legolas, realizing the misjudgment of his act, braced himself toward the impact. It was sure to lead to his immediate death...

Allume - At last

**Another chapter updated hooray! Who are these mysterious creatures after the Prince of Mirkwood?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Very Warm Welcome**

The prince realized he had made a crucial mistake. Sending his enemies a sharp icy glare, he hoped to take them by surprise.

The shadows concealed their forms and faces, but the elf knew he could destroy every one of them, for his skill was unearthly. Already in the air, he begun the fiery dance that struck fear into the most valiant of creatures.

The shadows instantly twirled in the opposite direction quickly in sync, attempting to match their skill with his own. Legolas, caught off his guard, was momentarily surprised at how agile his enemies were. Reaching out to seize a sturdy sickly branch overhead, he pulled his body into the murky treetops. He silently prayed they were poor climbers. Weaving in and out of the gnarled branches, he listened for their pursuit. He closed his eyes, for the uneasy chattering of the forest was throwing his usual excellent hearing off. Suddenly he pinpointed their exact position. He grinned. They were beneath him.

Having practiced before he readied himself. With one brilliant calculating fall, he crashed onto the back of one, receiving a metallic clang at the contact however. "Rhaich!" he hissed in pain but his voice was lost throughout the sudden crash. He knew he had at least slightly injured his ankle due to the unbelievable sturdiness of this creature. Angered, his smooth elven face crazed for revenge.

Unsheathing his twin blades, he wielded them to match his fiery rhythm, spinning like a whirlwind. No words were spoken from the prince. The shadows yelped in surprise, forced to move back into the defensive. Upon touching solid ground once more, Legolas knew he held the advantage. Head raised high he let his twin blades rest at his side. What in Ardar are they?

The elven prince heard the sharp unsheathing of blades and he cocked his head, daring the fell creatures to inch closer. Swiftly bounding away, he turned his head, preparing to receive a counter attack.

Unintentionally, a sliver of sun peered through the leafy canopies catching him and enveloping his fair face.

Abruptly, the dark figures that surrounded him gasped aloud. They immediately retreated a couple of steps back into the glade, dropping their weapons as they did so. Their tools clattered noisily to the floor. "Iston i nif gin!"

At the sound of perfectly spoken elvish, Legolas threw his weapons swiftly to the ground, disbelief written in his face. Just as they had recognized him, the sun captured the clearing where they stood, revealing their identities.

It was Legolas's turn to be taken aback for they were not fell creatures of the shadow, but the Woodland Realms' seasoned warriors. Now exposed to the sun, their dark elven armour shimmered, reflecting the pride in which they had polished their uniform. Their fair elven faces flushed as Legolas cooly spoke. "Fools! What do you think you are doing?"

Dropping to their knees at once, as if an executioner were about to drop the axe, they remained silent. Their auburn colored hair covered their startled hazel eyes. If their prince was anything like his father, they knew they were as good as dead.

Legolas stood unmoving, assessing each and every one of them coldly. "Do not be afraid to speak your minds Swordmasters. Lle tela?" He collected his fellow warrior's weapons and threw them into a pile near them. Giving them a chilling glare, Legolas dismissed their bows, feeling rather annoyed.

One of the younger guards attempted to apologize to the baffled prince. "My liege Legolas please forgive us. We may have ummm mistaken you for an orc."

Legolas's eyes twinkled with amusement but the reality of the incident, brought him back. "Pe-channas! How dare you! Dol gin lost, how could you mistake myself for one of those horribly foul creatures!" he scolded half-heartedly. Drawing breath, he continued. "You could have undoubtedly killed me or any other elf who happened to wander astray and stumbled into your midst."

Face still plastered with shame, the indefinite leader of the guards approached. "Goheno nin. Your father left us with specific orders to challenge anyone who crossed the gates other than himself. You see, with most of the soldiers fighting during the battle at Erebor, it would leave Mirkwood defenseless and..." Legolas instantly cut him off with the swift motion of his hand.

"Leave me be. I have heard enough. I will discuss this matter with the king once I have completed the assignment he gave me," he coolly answered. Walking towards his own fallen weapons, he knelt gracefully. Legolas lovingly stroked them, clearing off the grime they had collected from the dense forest floor.

The youngest guard watched in awe as the prince wrenched his twin knives from the barren earth and threw them at the two closest guards with such force. In surprise they cowered, no time to mount a defense, immediately dropping to the ground to avoid the incoming assault.

Legolas smirked, head held high, his aim true. The knives sung through the air until they embedded themselves mercilessly into their target.

The young guard, realizing his eyes were closed, slowly opened them, fearful for his fellow guards. Staggering slightly he was astonished at the scene before him. The knives had punched themselves through the guard's thick armour, though not close enough tio their flesh to cause pain. Only the hilts were visible throughout the armor and he suddenly realized that the elves were stuck to a gnarled grey tree behind them, held there each by the twin knives themselves.

The two guards, shocked at their predicament, gazed at the prince in admiration rather than fear. Elves all held the same skill as warriors but this was different.

Walking towards the trapped elves, Legolas chuckled, apparently finding this whole ordeal rather amusing. Pausing to glance at the youngest guard, he signaled to him.

"Come hither."

Clearly an order, the stricken guard walked awkwardly toward the prince.

"What is thy name?"

"Prince Legolas, I am Barhador, son of Bruinaer."

Legolas approved obviously pleased. "Your name means one faithful to home. Will you tell this incident to King Thranduil when he returns from Erebor? I doubt he will take the news lightly, but I put my trust in you to do the right thing."

Agreeing almost immediately, Barhador was in shock, the task still processing in his mind. Eyes shining brightly, he gazed at the prince with a great respect and honour. Being careful not to trip on the disfigured root before him, he knelt, promising to carry the request out. Beginning to rise, Barhador instantly noticed that Legolas's ankle had begun to swell. "My liege-"

Legolas pivoted before he had a chance to finish. "I bid you farewell, Barhador son of Bruinaer. Perhaps our paths will cross once more in the future." Dismissing the other guards that hovered anxiously around them, he retracted his twin daggers. "Ego, my fellow warriors."

The two slumped undignified to the ground. Apologizing once more, they got to their feet and nimbly scurried into the lush woods. Before the forest consumed them wholly, they both turned and gave the prince a long look of recognition.

Once the last of the elves disappeared through the brush, Legolas took flight. His hair flowed freely in the dry bitter breeze. He was home. Racing silently through the distorted trees, he sang elegantly:

_Withdrawing to what I have know as home_

_My roots lie in the depths of these immortal branches_

_The world oblivious to this mystic dwelling_

_The forest, a maze of the mind_

_Yet cool and inviting_

_Secluded am I, longing never to depart _

_This hideaway_

_My haunting melody flows clear and crisp _

_As the night air_

_Into the woods who know what awaits thyself_

_For the frost-kissed bark of the trees _

_Lay victim to winters curse._

_Creaking, swaying, decaying into the wind_

_And skeletal patterned leaves litter the glade_

_A timeless era _

_Paths are of no use for us here_

_For you are entering the realm _

_Of the guardian of Greenwood_

_Pass peacefully through if you mean no ill will_

_Make no game_

_Or face the wrath of the Wood Sylvan Elves..._

The lyrics flowed high and pitch perfect, a clear breeze picking up his tune. It was a very old elven folk song, a beautiful piece of history.

His Ada had taught him the lyrics long ago when the king still sung, still enjoyed the breeze, and still laughed heartily. Or in other terms, when his mother still lived. With her absence came the absence of all things she loved from the Woodland. His father grew restless, becoming obsessed with the beauty of other things. He no longer cared for Sylvan song nor his only child.

Legolas stopped, standing high above the treetops where he could see the clear sky. Peering upwards his sharp eyes caught the birds flying high, well off the dense murky ground below. He saw the stars twinkling teasingly as dusk hungrily devoured the already murky forest into nothingness. Spirits soaring with freedom, the prince gazed into the night, wishing that morning would never come.

Quickly remembering this forest was not as safe as it used to be, he unwillingly crept down to the forest floor. Spiders often lurked and preyed on lesser creatures and he knew Silevon stood little chance if one were to stumble unto its path.

Sprinting effortlessly through the grass, the elf searched near and far for his steed. Even now in pitch-blackness, the elf could see every moving detail through his path, knowing every turn, arc, and lie the wicked paths held like the back of his hand.

What he failed to see however were the malicious eyes watching him...

Iston i nif gin - I know that face

lle tela - are you done

Ego - begone

pe-channas - idiot

Dol gin lost - your mind is empty

Goheno nin - forgive me

Nana - mother

**Finished once again! Hope your enjoying! Legolas is just sooooo perfect! xxxDefyingDeathxxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Of Nobles and Rulers**

Growing slightly disinterested from his unsuccessful search, Legolas stopped to rest. He looked around slightly taken aback. At night, the trees all looked dead, none of them familiar to him. He narrowed his eyes in concentration. The sickly looking trees seemed to sway in unison and distorting into unrecognized shapes.

Legolas smiled with understanding. The spell of Mirkwood lay at work. The air filled with illusion was not uncommon for the inhabitants of Mirkwood, as it did not so easily affect them as it did mortals. Elves were more immune to such spells that seeked to enter ones' ignorant mind.

Watching the heavy air continue to lurch intensely, Legolas considered heading to the palace. Sleeping outside did not bother him at all but the risk of spiders and other creatures of the dark did make him uneasy. Knowing his horse well he knew he was probably back home.

Making up his mind, the prince walked in the direction of Mirkwoods' stronghold, dissapearing into the dark shadow of the wood.

**oOo**

The royal palace that lay within the heart of Mirkwood was the Kings' pride and glory. It stood enormously high, towering over the woodland realm, like a mother hovering protectingly over a small child. The stone path leading out of the forest into the palace was a thin flawless bridge. A trickling waterfall floated gracefully beside it, splashing all who passed a little. Grey trees surrounded this beautiful domain and made it complete.

The elven embroidered gate that led to this kingdom lay protected by several highly decorated elven guards with auburn hair. They stood rigid, sleek weapons at their side ready to fire upon any who dared to enter. One could only imagine what lay inside of the palace if the outside was so magnificently grand.

Legolas admired the view, struck with awe at the magnificent presence the palace gave. At the sight of their beloved prince, the guards instantly softened their fierce appearance. Lowering their stance they all bowed respectfully offering their assistance. "Is the King with you?"

"Nay, he is still attending business in Erebor but he will arrive shortly." Legolas quickly responded. He waved them off, thanking them and rushed through the hall. Not wanting any other delays he tried not to bring attention to himself. Impatient as always, he strode past his fathers elegant throne room with the elk embroidered chair.

Turning to his left, he flew up a couple staircases, being careful not to crash into other elves making their way to the dining room. Passing a drunken elf with dark hair stumbling down the stairs, he noticed that he was carrying his father's special wine and a palette full of Lembas bread.

Legolas's eyes shone mischievously and he swiped all the elf's belongings for himself. Clutching the items, he hid the elvish way-bread underneath his silver tunic and held the gourmet wine in his other hand. He had never been drunk before and his curiousity got the better of him.

Scurrying up to the highest floor before he was discovered, he flew down a couple more hallways until finally reaching the royal rooms. Heart racing with memories, he ran gracefully past his Adar's room and eventually his Nana's room. O' how he missed her dearly.

Doing his best to ignore the tightening pain in his chest, he picked up his steady pace, leaving the locked room far behind...

Upon reaching his own door, he studied it carefully. It was just as he left it. The carved leaflike pattern marking his individual taste held dust. Turning the wooden cracked knob with tension, he peered inside.

His chest gave a little flutter of happiness as he saw his belongings. Laying his weapons and wine on the pale barren floor, he took in the relaxing sight. His elvish expensive garments lay in a neat assortment near his vine engraved closet, standing on the wall opposite his huge bed. Turning, his eyes caught something shimmering.

A pool of pure starlight was beginning to fill the white floor. His beloved balcony!

He rushed to the ledge, where the light emanated and a feeling of pure joy filled his body. For the sight that awaited him made his head dizzy with excitement.

Above the earth, where even tress failed to carry him, he had the perfect view of his domain and beyond. He could see the shadows that clouded and twisted its way through the woodland. He could see the river which tearfully cried for the sun to glow and reflect upon her once more. And most of all, he could see Rivendell. Basking in the freedom of the open air, he closed his eyes. And he stayed like that, hours flying past like seconds, free for this moment at least.

oOo

Snapping back to reality, he glanced at his bed; fallen pillows laying scattered and papers full of studies messily assorted. From the ceiling, hung a canopy of serene silvery curtains that brushed lightly against him.

At ease, he made his way over to his luxurious bed of woven green and silver colors, his signature favorites. The colors he loved.

At the sight of green, a flashback of Tauriel's light green warrior attire overtook his mind. Stupidly realizing his mistake, the prince groaned loudly as a flooding wave of pain consumed his entire being, driving his mind into an endless chasm of agony.

Doing his best to not throw himself mercilessly from the balcony, he struggled to keep consciousness. Hobbling around like a young elfling, Legolas pulled himself with great effort onto the bed, inhaling dep breaths of fresh air. Not wanting to be sick, he lay silently, willing his body to stop its erratic shaking.

It was frightening. His hands were uncontrollably trembling, the sight fascinating yet unbelievable to the elf. For Elves never grew ill. Fading was such torture to the mind and soul, but it was the nature of such elves to do so under the woes of lament.

At last, the pain decreased as it had done in the past, his heartache turned to mere irritation, the burning receding to aches.

Peace restoring, he pulled his warm comforting covers over himself and closed the curtains, shutting himself off. Shutting himself off from the troubles that shadowed his every move and thought. He did not want to be disturbed. "When shall I tell Adar about my dying?" Not realizing he had muttered the words out loud, he blinked realizing his question.

Staring at the plain ceiling he sighed. This would indefinitely be a long night. "*Posto vae." he whispered silently to himself. Wishing his heart would stop tormenting him, he reassured himself that things would be better come 'morrow. Please let it be so, he thought...

**oOo**

Groaning, Legolas woke up to the glum rays of Anor piercing his face. Wincing, he sat up slowly careful not to bring himself more of the suffering sensation. Like any other morn' he brushed his golden hair so it gleamed, and changed quickly into another fresh warrior outfit. Grabbing his quiver full of razor-sharp arrows, his twin knives, and his bow, he smoothly pushed open the door.

What he suddenly saw made him realize sleeping in the palace was a horrible idea. Why did things always go unexpected for him? Wide-eyed and astounded, he instinctively slammed the heavy door shut, sending a loud boom throughout the entire palace. The prince sighed and calculated his best escape. For the other side of his door was his father...

"Ion-nin, by all means may you shut the door in my presence." The king calmly said, pushing the door open with his boot. His elegant silver robe, trailed his footsteps, sweeping the prince's dusty room as he strode. He calmly watched his son, who was clearly in dismay.

Legolas bit his lip. "Nay father. I simply stopped to rest and pay my respect to the woods before continuing to the next destination of my journey. How fared your travel home?"

"I would think it wise son, to get on with it then." Thranduil replied coldly ignoring the question. The action sent Legolas's mind into a fit of shivers. The prince blinked and nodded but kept his ground. Nearly as tall as his father, he sent his own icy glare his way. Legolas searched the emotionless king's face for any sign of fatherly empathy.

"I would, if you would be so kind as to leave my bedchambers. Since you do not wish to speak to me of other matters." He replied coolly, wishing his father to let him be.

"Do not speak back to me in such a way." came the aggressive retort as the King curled his lip. "One of the guards by the name of Barhador, spoke to me of your warm welcome near Mirkwoods entrance. How unfitting for my son to lack the potential to recognize his own people."

"The light was very dim near the part where we fought." Legolas voiced. "I can see past the end of my own nose. Unlike you father." He said the last statement slowly, dragging the er in father longer than necessary.

The two circled each other, like two hunters fighting for the same prey, each calculatedly willing the other to back down. Legolas knew this was wrong and stopped his bitter remarks, not wanting things to turn ugly.

Thranduil stood tall, the light emanating his striking features. His dark eyebrows furrowed as he gave his son a dispassionate look. As he watched his son's icy blue eyes search himself, the king's face hardened, his thoughts becoming unreadable to the prince. Stroking his golden hair near his leafy crown, Thranduil looked away. "Ego! Leave my sight at once Ionneg! I will not tolerate this undignified behavior."

"Avon. 'Tis my room, not yours. You hold no authority here." Legolas responded softly. "You are only King in your heartless mind."

King Thranduil finally snapped. The same resentment he had lashed out at Thorin during their disagreement, was brought upon his son. The act that followed was lightning fast, a blur of a swipe, and Legolas barely had enough time evading. Thranduil lashed out, his fingers barely grazing the prince's flawless skin, but a defining action nonetheless.

Legolas nimbly jumped backwards out of harms way, but he stood stricken by the extent of his father's anger. Standing head high, Legolas remembered he had stood up to his king once, and he would do it again if worse came to worse.

At the memory of how he prevented his father from laying a hand on Tauriel, he realized too late the instant pain that would follow.

Buckling instantly, he feelt hazy with the sparking sensation of fire. To his luck however, his father was in such a distant state that his eyes missed the action. Recovering quickly from the realization of what he had caused, Thranduil saw a flash of pain appear on his son's face. Regret instantly followed and he hesitantly reached out.

Pushing past his confused father, Legolas ran in the opposite direction. He expertly hid his astonishment. Did his father despise him?

And in the silent agony of betrayal, he threw himself head-first off the balcony, into the murky sunshine that flooded his elven features.

Thranduil gasped in alarm. The curse of shock overwhelmed him and stiffened his reflexes. He reached out to grab Legolas's green tunic, but his slender fingers grasped naught but empty air. His mouth widened in a dreaded fear, at loss for words.

As if some spell had been casted, the king found himself rooted to one spot, and could only helplessly watch his son plummet recklessly into the thicket below...

*Posto vae - good night

Ionneg - my son

Avon - I won't

**Another chapter updated yay! So...Legolas has daddy issues...xD Will Legolas outrun his commanding father?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Depths of Despair**

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Reaching the trees that lay below, he disappeared, the murky trees concealing his soon-to-be instant death. Legolas however knew better. A smile made its way into the prince's face. Why would he greet death now when he had a journey of his own to fulfill?

Flipping perfectly in midair, he twisted his body into a mores uitable position. Rustling and breaking, the leaves lessened his fall and Legolas did the rest. The pain in his chest had minimized slightly over the long dive, leaving room for movement.

Smirking at his fathers stupefied face as he fell, it gave him the strength he needed to glide across the thorny branches that awaited him. Entwined gracefully in the leafy canopy, his well-built body responded and allowed him to descend lightly.

He timed his climb poorly however and his already swollen ankle became caught in the massive vines. He untangled his leg and cursed in elvish. No doubt the king would make a snide remark.

_"My prince I thought I had raised you better than this. Climbing down trees should not be a problem for an elf who has grown up surrounded by them." He pictured his father's unwavering expression._

Looking down, he noticed his ankle was bent in a oddly twisted angle. He cursed in elvish once again and reached out to remove his light boot, but halted. A faint elvish horn blew above him. "Alas! My father is too persistent for his own good. It will be the death of him one of these days." he whispered though not wholly true. No doubt his father was sending guards to inspect his fall. Or would he come see for himself? He scowled.

However one line of regret kept entering his mind. Why had he forgotten the wine?

Smiling awkwardly, Legolas fled into the dark brush.

**oOo**

Thranduil was worried. He had seen the brilliant flash of pain that had taken ahold of his son. He could not be sure if it was caused by rash action or whether it was an outside force. He had only meant to intimidate his son, knowing that he would be quick enough to jump away. He had measured his act before carrying it out. Maybe power over his son's free spirit was not the course he should take in the future. "If he has a future." he thought quietly. He mentally slapped himself.

His son must be alive. Running his delicate fingers through his hair, he felt slightly ashamed with the unwise actions he had brought upon his son. His striding through the hall, became running. Making up his determined mind, he decided he wpould go to where he had last seen his son fall and make sure he was not injured.

"Ionneg please be well." The guards that had been in charge of the search frantically scoured the forest for any sign of where the prince lay. Looking up at their worried king, anyone at that moment would have realized how much he cared for his son.

**oOo**

Legolas paused. How stupid of him to not realize he needed a ride to Rivendell. Risking the sound of whistling would undoubtedly bring Silevon to him, but that would lead the elven guards to his present location. He did not want to face his headstrong Ada. He had no choice.

Pursing his smooth lips to eminate the song, he looked around nervously. His calling tune rang loud and clear, piercing the quiet evening like a sword to a shield.

The King of the Woodland realm stopped walking as a clear note rang through the wood. Thranduil calmly raised a hand to ward off his pestering guards, listening intently again. When nothing more followed he raised his hand to his brow.

The elf who had blown the horn clearly saw the Kings' distress and called others to assist in the search. "Hir vuin, what are your orders?" The King did not answer. Pinpointing where the elf had whistled was easy. Finding the obstinate prince when he did not want to be found however could prove to be very difficult indeed.

Legolas trekked forward. He knew that the Sylvan elves liked to search high above the ground so his green garment provided a sort of camouflage from above. Emotionless, he waited for his horse to appear. He had whistled the tune for his steed to meet him near the edge of the forest in the direction of Rivendell. He wanted a quick and easy escape.

Silevon had been patiently waiting for his rider for almost two days now. He had grown bored when the elf became quiet in the sense of danger. Oblivious to the sounds the elf had heard, he had wandered off to eat. He knew that predators patrolled Mirkwood but that did not stop its appetite from increasing. When he had realized his rider was missing he grew worried but knowing the warrior, he was probably at the palace, obnoxiously greeting his fair people. He had waited near the waterfall at Mirkwood's gate and had been waiting there ever since, until he heard the simple command harmoniously flow through the trees...

At the sight of pure white, Legolas turned almost immediately. Silevon was gracefully racing toward him. His horse's presence seemed to say 'My what a mess you have caused.' Legolas smiled warmly to greet his noble animal.

"Mellon-nin we must leave at once! Please show me the meaning of haste! My father is-" Legolas was cut swiftly off. Suddenly he grew very cold, his feet frozen to the spot where he greeted his horse. Hearing a slight stirring to his right, he twisted his head to look.

Eight glittering red orbs met his cold blue ones. Blinking, the blood-red ones slowly drifted downward near ground level. The prince could not suppress a gasp for standing before him was the most hideous six-legged creature he had ever met in combat. He had expertly killed many spiders that threatened his home before, but not quite so large as this one. It's legs and jaws were stickily covered in dried blood, no doubt the remnants of the last meal it had eaten. It's stinger, although not that large in size, menacingly dipped downward preparing to subdue the lithe elf with its powerful venom.

O' Valar, why now of all times? Keeping his distance, Legolas never let his eyes leave his vicious opponent for a second. He almost pleaded for his fellow folk to discover him. The hungry look the creature in front of him was imposing, sent shivers down his spine.

Silevon was a little ways off, not wanting to distract the spider nor his rider. Upon hearing the woodland elves not too far behind, the horse stomped his broad hooves, sending a cloud of dirt Legolas's way. Giving a whinny of encouragement, Silevon warned the prince to make his move.

The elf, driven with hurry, squinted through the thicket. The orbs had disappeared, hidden behind the overgrowing forest. Glancing around, he positioned his fragile decorated bow quickly and pulled a steel arrow from his quiver.

He did not want to risk his father finding him. He arched his back as his firing hand fluently pulled the bowstring back. Concentrating intently on the arachnid before him, he released.

It sung through the air like a clear note. Whizzing perfectly, it easily buried itself into the hideously hairy warm flesh. The spider gave a shrill deathly scream that echoed thunderously throughout the fading day. Thudding to the ground, those bright scarlet eyes grew dim as the life was extinguished out of its horrible bulky body. Legolas panted, relief washing over his body, calming his erratic heart. However, Silevon whinnied even louder, trying to warm the elf that the danger as not over.

Legolas stiffened, taking the precaution his horse had offered him.

Thranduil, still holding a chilling presence, openly decided to risk something he had never felt the need to do. Just this once, he thought. I just need order restored to these woods. The elven warriors who had accompanied him nodded their approval, but stood surprised that their King would go to such a level.

Thranduil instantly took in a large breath, signaling his elves to keep looking. After a long silence, the King turned his calm collected voice into a large booming shout, "Legooolassss! Tolo govano vennn!"

Legolas paused, ears twitching as he heard his father shout for him. The prince let a surprised expression take hold of his face. His father never shouted.

The elf turned his body towards direction of the voice, but his distraction proved to be his mistake. A unanticipated movement through the air caught his ears, but Legolas was too late.

Instinctively he leapt upwards expertly avoiding a blow to his head, but a sharp pain in his sprained ankle dwindled his action. His calculation failed and instead of dodging the strike, Legolas felt his upper back erupt in agony. He opened his mouth in quiet disbelief as a jagged spike pierced his back. The prince grunted, still not wanting to accept that he had been stabbed, as a convulsion overtook his lithe body.

There was no way the cut had been made by a clean sword. Wh-a? Wondering what had pierced him kept the elf steady on his feet. His quiver and thick clothing had blocked most of the blow, but the seeping sensation that followed led to Legolas cringing in uneasiness. Twisting his head to face his anonymous attacker, he found himself face to face with another grotesque spider. It was of greater size and its stinger was slick with poison.

A cry of horrified terror vibrated through the dense wood, a sound so painful to those who heard. It was the sound not many elves made unless they were at the brink of fear. For it was nearly impossible to scare an elf.

**oOo**

Thranduil, still looking for clues as to where the prince could be, heard the cry of distress and sweat trickled down his fair face. His perfect hair now tangled in a mess fell unevenly down past his pointed ears. He fell to his knees. Now certain his only son was dead, he ignored his distraught warriors. "May thy paths be green and the breeze in thy back. I shall not sleep until I have seen thee again," he promised.

He looked to the murky sky, remembering all the work to retrieve the white starlight jewels from Erebor in memory of his fallen wife. Was it worth it?

Taking out the mesmerizing necklace to gaze upon its beauty, he swallowed, emotions threatening to break loose like a storm. As he delicately held it in his palm, one lone stone of pure starlight stood out. It had broken off the necklace...

**oOo**

Having enough will to flip and bring the helpless monster down, Legolas stood nervously. What to do now? A n aching pain pulsed from his upper back, skittering throughout his nervous sytem.

Softly stroked his worried horse, he wondered how long he had until the poison kicked ruthlessly in. Considering his options, he recklessly decided to take the path headed to Rivendell.

Suddenly a light moan escaped his now chapped lips; his keen eyes began seeing spots and his limbs seemed to grow heavy. He would risk death, rather than return to his father. Content with his decision, he staggered, the effects of the poison hindering his elven healing ability. Frowning he studied his body as he willed himself to move but found he could not.

Sluggishly stumbling onto his horse, his limbs drooped tiredly as if his muscles had turned to stone. It took a lot of physical effort to grasp onto his stallion's mane but the elf finally succeeded. He gritted his teeth as an explosion of pain traveled through his body whenever Silevon made the slightest movement. The same words repeatedly hammered in his head like a beating drum: How long? How long? How much time did he have?

Urging Silevon to move faster, the horse raced towards Rivendell. Suppressing what would be a loud groan of agony, the elf let his body fall. With every ounce of strength he tried to restrain the urge to cry out. Instead, he prayed for time, tired for the first time in his immortal life...

His intelligent horse knew that the life of his rider depended on his pace and dashed, Mirkwood's grey broken forest grew ever smaller and smaller. As did the desperate King of the Woodland Realm.

Hir vuin - my lord

Tolo govano ven - Come meet us


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Estel The Vigilant**

Down the barren lonely road, a dirty yet elegant palace horse jogged noisily onward. The wind clattered like bones as dry leaves blew against one another. The silence was broken by horse and rider.

Silevon's snow coat at the beginning of the journey, was now a dusty grey, the intense weather the cause.

His rider lay slumped over the horse's broad shoulder blades. If it wasn't for the occasional twitch of the fingers, the horse would have believed that his rider walked with the spirits of the Valar. He knew that his master was internally at war with the strange infection the poison released, and hastened his pace as worry grew.

**oOo**

Legolas, hands clenching painfully to his horse, was lost in hazy thought. He didn't mind in the slightest that he was dying. It mattered not, but he wondered how his father was faring with such drastics news. Perhaps he did not know.

The all high and mighty King of Mirkwood was most likely atop his throne, arrogantly waving his ring-hand commanding his elven warriors to do his bidding. They would have already picked up his trail and the prince knew he did not have much time. He clamped his mouth shut as a pang of sickness flared at the back of his throat. _How_ _much further could he last?_

So with ever twist and jolt, the prince endured it all, no matter how much the intense agony rattled his body.

Until he could bear it no longer.

And shadow encased him.

**oOo**

Lord Elrond slowly drummed his impatient fingers on his lap in the enchanting courtyard of Rivendell. After his confrontation with Sauron, he had returned home to clear his mind. For nearly three days he sat on a carved stone bench in perfect peace and tranquility, predicting the futures' outcome. He whispered prayers of comfort under his breath, lost in his intellect. He was brought out of his trance however when a small hand shook him gently but firmly. "Ada! _Ada_!"

Wincing at the loud being that shouted his name, he groaned. "Estel, whatever could be so important as to interrupt my foresighting?"

The smaller scraggly-haired child looked up at him wide-eyed. "Oh! My apologies Ada! I have just returned from hunting and I believed you to be sleeping."

Lord Elond frowned slightly, wondering how in all of Adar, foreseeing looked like sleeping. His dark hazel eyes gazed at the 10-year old human sympathetically and gave him a warm smile. Calmly he rested his hand upon the boy's wild brown hair. "Come. Let us stroll and admire the frost covered trees together. What say you?"

The younger boy grinned. His face seemed to light up with excitement and he eagerly pulled on his 'father's' dark silky blue robe. He enthusiastically gave a running start, willing his father to catch up to him. Lord Elrond chuckled. It was so lovely to have a child to look after once more.

His beloved beautiful daughter Arwen, had long ago left the nest. She now spent her time in books and studies, filling her immortal body with the essence of learning.

Arwen's older twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were far more mishevious and reckless. Alike in appearance, it made it easy to play pranks or simply annoy their friends and family. Estel was very fond of them, picking up their gimmicks such as stealing food from the kitchens. Now proud high-ranked Rivendell Warriors, all Elrohir and Elladan spent doingwith their free time was boast to just about everyone.

Lord Elrond stopped walking as his 'son' grew quiet. It was not like his adventurous and audacious child to suddenly lose speech. Perplexed, he walked over to the focused boy. "Estel what troubles y-" Lord Elrond stopped as he saw what lay enclosed in the boy's rough but gentle fingers. It was a gracefully designed butterfly of blues and greens.

As he looked closer, he noticed that one of its beautiful wings had been slightly torn. It was a thin gash, as if it had been snagged on a branch.

Lord Elrond could see Estel was doing his absolute best not to be affected by it. "Ada? Who would do such a thing?" The boy stroked the butterfly's battered wing softly and Lord Elrond could see the concern in his powerful face.

"Maybe it brought it upon itself. We all act rash sometimes so let's not assume it was an outside force." The larger elf then reached out to stroke the mystical insect as well but as his first finger barely made contact, the insect took flight.

Estel gasped and ran a little ways off with it, until the butterfly flew over the courtyard wall and beyond the edge of Rivendell. He laughed and playfully shoved Lord Elrond near the thick wall. "I require your tallness, o' great one." Estel chuckled.

"Why not just go around the wall and follow it through the gate?" Elrond questioned.

"Because that would be no fun! Too easy!" Estel giddily replied as he climbed over his father's shoulders trying awkwardly yet persistently to scale the wall. As swift as a cat, the young human had reached the top and he sat there, beaming down at his father.

Lord Elrond shrugged and nodded in approval. "Estel please don't go looking for trouble because trouble will find you!"

The wild-haired boy grinned, all his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. He turned his head wondering just what adventures lay beyond this side of Rivendell. What he saw though he was not expecting. Something strange rode this way.

Estel gasped before he felt himself fall backwards. Wha?! He cried out in surprise and hands clung desperately to cling to the wall.

Lord Elrond, hearing the boy's wild cry rushed to the rescue. He waited, arms open for his son to plunge into his strong arms. Estel landed safely, warm hands enveloping him into a hug.

Playfully struggling in the warm hands that held him, he stammered. "Ada you must fetch help! The butterfly flew a couple ways off and in the direction of a strange-looking beast. I have never seen anything like it!" Estel stopped, distracted by the scene he had witnessed.

"What? What have you seen my lad?!" Lord Elrond impatiently shook his shoulders.

Not fond of being shaken like a doll, the boy answered.

"A horse with a golden blond mane was wearing a bow and quiver! I didn't know that horses had a need for weapons but now-" Lord Elrond cut the boy off quickly.

"This is folly. What foolish stories have your 'brothers' been feeding you? What you think you have seen must have been merely a daydream." the Lord of Rivendell lectured. He dared not tell his son that such things were stupid. He was but a child.

"Utter nonsense."

"Hmph." Estel stood against the wall, rocking his body back and forth impatiently. He kicked a stone in frustration.

No more than a minute later did one of Lord Elrond's Rivendell guards arrive, baffled.

"My lord, it seems we have an unexpected guest."

"What guest?" Elrond asked, annoyed. "I don't send out invitations this early for the annual wine-tasting competition! If it is the King of Mirkwood come to apologize for last year, throw him out on his arrogant-" Lord Eleond paused, remembering that Estel was right behind. "And it most certainly is _not_ a special occasion! Whoever could it be?"

"Well said. I think you had better come yourself to the healing room. It's rather urgent my liege." The guard carefully gave the half-elf an inquisitive stare.

Lord Elrond nodded catching his drift and pivoted, his royal robe lightly touching his heels. He expertly swiped Estel along with him, earning himself a whine.

"Ada no! I promised Elladan and Elrohir that I would help them at archery!" The boy struggled. Estel was young but his days spent in the North had wielded this scrawny human into a tough fighter.

Elrond chuckled heartily. "Nay you lie. Your 'brothers' are both on patrols at the moment. And it it you who needs archery practice young one."

Receiving a stern look, Estel grew silent at once knowing he would once again be bored out of his mind.

"Fine."

He would let himself be swept along...for now at least.

Lord Elrond sighed. He let a dark brown piece of hair fall down his serious face. For him to be personally requested to the healing room always meant something bad. He was greeted by many elven healers, mainly very chattery females. The healers were usually so calm and patient. What had brought about this change?

Hearing a slight whimper from Estel, he pushed through the crowd trying to get a better look at the patient. "He was found near Rivendell's entrance. His loyal horse brought him just in time." The elves explained. Lord Elrond glanced warily at his son.

Estel gasped loud enough for a stubborn mountain troll to wake. Laying before him on a slender white bed was the most beautiful yet frightening scene he had ever witnessed.

Yes, he was a young Ranger and had seen gorgeous sights where he had traveled, but this fair creature was new.

A young male or female elf was sprawled across the feathery covers, body twitching every so often. The well-built body structure gave Estel the confirmation that it was a strange male elven warrior. His fair face was contorted in distress and his tousled yet stunning shiny golden hair covered his eyes.

The figure's lithe clothing was matted with blood, whether it was his own or another's could not be certain. A patch of moonlight from a window above shone directly on the small group, reflecting the mysterious elf's face and his dearthly white skin glowed in the light.

Estel was frozen, rooted to the spot. He had never witnessed such a fair elf like this in his life. He only stared at the mysterious yet wondrous creature in front of him.

"Ada? What kind of elf is this?" He asked.

The Lord of Rivendell did not answer. Frantically pushing Estel aside, Lord Elrond realized at once who the figure was. Rushing immediately to his aide, he carefully grabbed the prince's slender arm, feeling for a pulse. "Prince Legolas has been injured! Send word to his father, King Thranduil!" He whispered quickly to the rest of the guards that hovered near the entrance. "He can be found-"

Suddenly a shaky hand grabbed Lord Elrond's raised arm, halting the order. The grip was firm, as though every ounce of strength was meant for this one action. Striking blue eyes met hazel ones and the Lord of Rivendell could see the silent plea that lay in them.

"N-nay..."

Lord Elrond eased the trembling hand to the figures' side. Turning to the anxious guards waiting patiently behind him, he shouted "Never mind. Leave us at once!"

Legolas gave a sigh of relief before letting his head limply fall into Lord Elrond's arms. His usual grace as he fell was inattentive this time. His mangled yet still stunning hair fell over his eyes, burying the confused icy gaze that had concluded Elrond's decision to call his father. His mind began sinking, a dusky cloud of affliction growing once again from his back. He could subconsciously feel his back oozing with the sticky substance that maliciously ate away at his vitality.

Refusing to give in to his emotions, Legolas turned his head to one side, hiding a wave of embarrassment. He was tired beyond measure. Shutting his eyes, he slipped into his dark kingdom, into a dreamless sleep.

Lord Elrond, being the ultimate healer of Rivendell, began probing and searching the lifeless body for hidden injuries. Turning the Prince over, he withheld his breath. Legolas's back had only one wound but that one wound was enough. A small but deep gap in the elf's clothing meant he had been stabbed. But by what?

He gently passed his thin fingers over the incision, drawing a sticky substance from it that was not blood. Legolas gave a small shiver at his touch but he did not wake. Wanting to know the extent of the pain Legolas was in, Lord Elrond lifted the silvery blond strands that covered his dull eyes.

Lord Elrond suddenly heard a small murmur of what-he-did-not-know come from Estel still standing behind him.

"Estel everyone has left, can you not understand the importance that I be left alone?" Estel, still frozen, began to clumsily pretend to walk away.

His act failed however and Lord Elrond sighed. "Estel, I know you wish to be a healer someday but 'tis not the time."

After a small silence, Elrond believed the young ranger to be gone, so he went back to his work. He silently wished the prince would awaken and fast, for he was growing weaker than necessary. When pulling back the still stunning hair that covered the prince's eyes, he noticed that Legolas's eyes were closed.

He sighed aloud, a spund that did not escape Estel's hearing. The Lord of Rivendell knew that Elves always slept with their eyes open, rarely closed.

For Legolas to shut them meant he was in immense physical pain. This was a battle that the he would have to fight internally, _alone_.

**oOo**

And in and out of shadow, Legolas tumbled, awakening for short periods of time only to fall again. Shivering from the fevers, the elf's features turned gaunt and tattered. His fair skin drained of even more colour, a thin layer of sweat glistening upon it like silver dust. Trembling, his body fought against the invasive infection, causing him to writhe under the madness that began to take shape.

Thrice, Legolas awakened, mumbling inaudible words to the grey ceiling. Hallucinating.

At work, Lord Elrond swiped a velvety cloth to clean and bind the wound gently, as to not disturb his patients' sleep. Making sure the lone Prince was laid as comfortable as possible, he stood up quickly, remembering he needed the herb Athelas to cure the sickening poison.

Turning without warning, he nearly crashed into Estel.

"What in the heavens are you doing here?!" He half scolded, half stood astounded. How had he missed the child's presence? He groaned inwardly, his hazel eyes searching the scruffy-haired boy for an explanation.

Estel did not notice his father. His gaze was more intent on the strange yet refined elf that lay gasping for breath every few seconds. He blinked once, realizing someone was standing directly in front of his view.

He looked up and after a few more seconds, he noticed that his father was near enough to collide with him. "Ada? Shouldn't you be assisting the prince?"

Lord Elrond mentally cursed himself. He had no time for games. Stamping his heavy boot on the floor in irritation, he opened his mounth to reply. "Estel I want you to fetch the Athelas plant from the storage rooms." He made a slight gesture to the disturbed unconscious figure behind him. "It is rather urgent in case you haven't noticed, so move!"

The boy glanced up at his father. "Yes Ada, of course."

Stealing one last look at the strange golden haired elf in the bed, he turned and ran out of the room. His small footsteps echoed through the large halls, making other elves mumble in annoyance at the disturbed peacefulness.

Estel cared not. He was intrigued. He was going to act as a healer and help save the fascinatingly divine elf. If the limber being looked so fanciful in pain, he curiously wondered what he looked like healthy. He glanced at an open window, eventide rising, reminding him that time was not on his side...

**oOo**

Outside the corriders, into the whisting winds and beyond Rivendell, the King of Mirkwood gazed silently onwards at the same sky. "What am I doing?"

For once, Thranduil's calm attire slipped, his chilling mask faltering slightly. "Goheno nin, ionneg."

His boot gently grazed over fallen damaged branches where Legolas had undoubtedly descended, distracted.

He simply stared at the wreckage.

And did nothing...

Goheno nin - Forgive me

Ionneg - My son

**Not much Thranduil here unfortunately. :( I will try to include him in the next one because the main focus here was Aragorn. Also I put pictures up on Wattpad yay! Comments are appreciated! 2 more chapters updating very very soon! Don't go away!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Start of Something New**

The Prince of Mirkwood could feel nothing except the numb sensation of defeat consuming his puzzled mind. Groaning, he willed his mind to get rid of the woozy feeling that made him sick to the stomach. If being drunk felt like this, then he would never in all of Arda drink to excession if he got that chance.

His brain consisted of intense throbbing as if it was being hammered constantly by a dwarven axe or a weapon far far worse. The pitch-blackness filled like water, his eyesight blearing and he worriedly thought he was in a cave.

He suddenly realized that his eyes were closed. How stupid of him.

Cursing himself for acting informerly, he blamed the incident on his aching body. A wave of bright sunlight pierced his vision and tears flooded his icy eyes as he winced. He instantly wished he were back among the glum ill-lit treetops of Mirkwood. If he wasn't in Mirkwood, then where in all of Middle-earth was he? Suppressing a loud moan, the elf tried to switch his position on the soft bed he lay in. Bed? At what hour had he stopped to rest?

Remembering faintly how he had grasped Lord Elrond's arm, the prince speculated that he had awoken in Rivendell.

Noticing that his back no longer felt of the viscous poison he had been stabbed with, the prince felt around his chest to find if he had been bandaged. His fingers lightly skimmed the edge of his chest and he felt a velvety soft-like fabric woven around to staunch his back. When he didn't grasp his usual silver undertunic, he made a conclusion that he was partly shirtless. The faint breeze chilled his open skin, and lifting his head, the paleness of his skin confirmed that he was indeed not wearing it.

A sudden nauseating sickness engulfed his body during the movement and he cringed. Clenching his hands, he desperately tried to calm his heaving chest.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." A gentle whisper spoke.

Legolas turned gently, as to not disturb his aching head nor back, toward the direction of the voice.

To his right sat a chestnut haired human, no more than about 10 years of age, staring intently at him. His elbows were tucked on top of his breeches, rough small hands holding up his head.

Legolas studied the boy's rugged features, eyes analyzing the strange appearance of a human in Rivendell, the home of all elves. He properly looked the small being up and down, taking in the scraggly brown hair and the expensively fine nut-colored clothing he wore. Looking closer however, the boy's attire had multiple holes and Legolas inferred that the he enjoyed spending numerous days outdoors. What was he doing here of all places? Bard's rugged image came to mind and he wondered if the child was a merchant's son.

Remembering he was vulnerable, his fingers grasped a sheet that resided near the edge of the bed. He pulled it up to his neck in one nimble motion.

Estel gave a quiet giggle at the pale elf's action. His father had instructed that the silver elf was to be treated with high respect, for he was a noble elven warrior of Mirkwood. No doubt this strong-willed soldier would want the need to feel overprotective of himself. Estel secretly made up his mind that when the elf was feeling healthier, he would ask if he were a royal guard or servant of King Thranduil, the austere ruler of the Woodland Realm. Of course he had never seen the King, but he was extremely curious and would ask just the same.

"Le suilon! Le nathlam hî." Estel spoke the elvish words clearly, hoping to get a response from the strange being. He leaned in slightly on his stool, his rear aching from sitting too long.

The boys' perfectly spoken elvish barely took the prince by surprise, for Legolas had his fill of surprising experiences from the past few days. However, he was not at all pleased. He did not appreciate the fact that the boy had been looking after his degraded position all this time. Where was Lord Elrond? Surely he was the one who had expertly healed his repulsive back? He did not speak, hpoing the child would leave him be.

Estel on the other hand, blinked innocently, not fazed at all by the act of defiance.

Disguising a fleeting wince as a broken smile, Legolas tried to properly sit up, helplessly attempting to regain his pretentious stature. A sharp flare of pain snaked its way throughout his upper back and shoulders as he did so, earning a grunt of discomfort from the unwell elf.

Estel immediately reached out to assist the struggling elf, but Legolas instinctively pulled away. Head held high, Legolas felt the need to do things himself. After all, it was his neglectfulness that had deposited him in this mess. Surely someone had already told the human child to respect him as the prince he was?

Noticing that the warrior felt uncomfortable around his childish behavior, Estel stood up and walked around directly in front of the elf, hands hidden behind his back. Legolas sneaked a glance at the human.

Giving the strange elf an awkward smile, Estel dramatically pulled the elf's green tunic from behind his back with an airy whoosh. "Ada took this off you to patch up your wounds. Believe me, he meant no disrespect."

Legolas shakily stood up, staggering as he clutched the sturdy bedpost to support his thin weight. At the broad movement, Legolas's vision spinned uncontrollably, as if some ill creature had sent him flying from a powerful blow to the head. When the room had ceased its mocking dance, he wondered if the boy was an illusion as well. Looking however, he regrettably made eye contact.

Realizing he was stuck with the bothersome child, he gave his thanks. "Ni *'lassui." In reality, he actually meant the words he spoke. For when the elf's strength was beginning to fade, this boy had undoubtedly watched over him. Legolas swiped his piece of clothing, and cautiously slipped it over himself. Being careful not to rouse his injury, he put one arm tentatively through one silky sleeve, then the other. By focusing on whatever dignity that he still contained, he was able to dull the aching in his back and the grief emanating from his chest.

Unintentionally replaying what his father's actions intended, his heart grew heavy, strength deteriorating once more. Legolas's usual melodic voice cracked as he tried to put words together, raspy from the lack of hydration. "W-where is Lord Elrond?"

Estel, extremely tired from his watch, lazily let out a loud long yawn. The room grew awkwardly silent, since Legolas had difficulty speaking due to his weak state and Estel because of his yawning.

Legolas looked around the brightly lit healing room, while he unfortunately waited for Estel to answer. A large embroidered clear window lay directly above him, spilling daylight onto the clean tan floor. Other extra beds lined up with the one he accompanied and at the end of the clear hall was a doorless entrance where Elven healers slowly poured through, checking on others. However, it seemed that Legolas's space was the only one that was attended by a raggedy dirty human. He gave the child a stern stare, expecting an answer instantly.

Estel grinned to help the elf feel more at ease. "Lord Elrond has decided to entrust the care of your recovery to his 'son'." He enthusiastically bowed, wavy hair dusting the ground. "Me! I am Estel, adopted son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell." The delighted boy grinned ear to ear at his revealing.

Legolas's collected appearance switched almost instantly into a look of pure shock and suspicion. "You are Lord Elrond's son? I have been under the intention that I lay unconscious under the watch of a lost human who had accidentally wandered into the great halls of Rivendell." The elf weakly choked out.

Estel giggled at the elf's peculiar expression and at the tease. "I am half-elven." He twirled, holding his arms up high, as if were the best thing in Middle-Earth that could happen to himself.

Legolas fixed his gaze on the cold parched floor in embarrassment at his dilemma. Face flushing with shame at the cold greeting he had offered, he apologized. "I was not informed that Lord Elrond adopted a son. Goheno nin." Legolas lowered his head in respect and gave Estel a genuinely warm smile.

Estel nodded and excitedly kept talking. "I helped cure the poison that infiltrated your body by extracting juice from the Athelas plant and then placing it over your wound. It was quite an experience, for the poison effectively disappeared from your back after a short while. You see, I am a healer-in-training!" Stopping for a short breath, Estel tried to continue the speech he had rehearsed. "Lord Elrond has left two days ago, after healing your wounds, already reaching his appointed destination."

Two days ago? I was unconscious for two days? Legolas sighed deeply. No doubt his Ada would be coming to coldly rip out his innards very soon.

In his distraction, his grip slipped from the bedpost he had been holding, and he stumbled over the hard wooden stool. Tripping over the sturdy object, he struggled to maintain his balance. His stiff muscles faltered for the first time, due to the bedrest, leading to a large crash that erupted throughout the long hall. Half of Legolas's slender body was sprawled across the stool, the other half lay crumpled on the floor. Whispering a thankful prayer to Valar that he did not land clumsily on his back, he sighed. The pain felt now would have tripled.

As others rushed to lift him up, he pushed himself off the ground nimbly and walked to the best of his ability towards the doorless archway that led into other parts of the palace. Head proudly raised, Legolas attempted to show them that he was capable of walking by himself. As the other healers took the hint, they dispersed throughout the room, attending others nearby.

Legolas smiled secretly. For once he did not attract much attention, his bedraggled appearance the cause.

He just wanted to be outdoors, to feel winters's gust bite his smooth skin, promising his existence. He just wanted the thrilling adrenaline that circulated throughout his entire being. The felling as he swept through the trees, spirit ecstatic as he flew over them like a bird in flight. Lost in his blissful thought, he momentarily forgot that he had left the boy in suspense.

"I know not thou name!"

Legolas stopped and turned, his unbraided hair drifting in the other direction in slow-motion. The puzzled elf prince gazed at the human.

Lonely eyes met warm cheerful ones.

Estel grinned, tilting his head to one side, watching the elf that had halted for him. It wasn't much but it was definitely a start. He offered the imposing elf a sympathetic hand. "I know not thou name," He repeated again slowly, expecting a response.

Legolas's looked down at the benevolent hand the boy held willingly out . A warm sensation spread from his chest all throughout his aching body, making his heart beat slightly faster than normal. His gaze softened and he gently clasped the smaller boy's hand in his own. The touch felt comforting and pleasant, something he hadn't felt in quite a while. He exhaled a warm breath of relief, his heart thawing slightly out of its chaotic prison.

"Legolas. I am Legolas Greenleaf."

"Peditham hi sui vellyn?" Estel held his breath as he watched the elvish question process in the blond elf's head. A pause.

"Aye henig, we may..."

_Its the last luring midnight_

_I'm afraid of starting something new_

_Something fresh like the biting frost come 'morrow_

_But I'm sure we'll make it grow_

_I don't want to be this person anymore_

_If it causes you to suffer inside_

_What used to be 'splendid' days, now causes me anguish_

_We'll make something that matters_

_All I've ever dreamed was something to live for_

_And it started with a new beginning_

_A wonderful panic of that one small touch..._

**oOo**

Once finished binding and healing the grotesque wound that scarred the prince's fair back, Lord Elrond had trusted his son Estel, with the well being of Legolas. He then swiftly ran to Rivendell's stables and took off in the direction of Mirkwood. For nearly two days he had traveled hard across the vast plain, finally arriving near the familiar twisted trees.

Remembering what he left behind, his face drooped at the thought that something could go wrong between the two. He dared not tell Estel of Legolas's true identity for he might not act as himself. And perhaps Legolas did not know that Estel was the future king of Gondor. Smiling softly at their resemblance, he reminisced about his first meeting with the young ranger Aragorn...

Aragorn son of Arathorn was nearly 8, traveling with his fellow ranger companions of the Dundaïn mountains. He was delivered to himself personally, accompanied by other rangers who had grown fond of the smallest of their troupe, at the request of Gandalf the Grey. At first, Lord Elrond had thought this chance meeting to be a mistake, but not long after he had taken the boy under his protection, did he begin to foresight the poor-clothed boy's magnificent noble future.

Disguising Aragorn's true identity was easy. As a ranger, the boy was known as Strider, for he adjusted his name into a more suitable one as to not arouse suspicion. Lord Elrond did not have to do much at all. With the change of a human name Aragorn to an elvish one, Estel, wariness among the elves rapidly dwindled. As Estel picked up the Elvish language, his transformation was complete.

Lord Elrond had expertly molded the lone ranger into a half-elf just like himself. Of course, this would all reverse once the human was old enough to be king.

Lord Elrond tilted his head, now aiming his attention on the events that lay ahead. No doubt after King Thranduil received the news would he go on a furious rampage.

Shuddering at the thought, Lord Elrond reached the edge of the enchanted wood. Taking one last look at the dull rays of Anor that shone through the clouds, he inhaled a frosty breath. He coughed slightly as the freezing air tickled his lungs. Shifting his legs, he guided his noble steed onward.

Suddenly, before entering the disfigured forest, Lord Elrond's horse nearly ran into Thranduil's shimmering silver stallion himself. Clearly startled, his own auburn horse reared up onto its muscular hind legs, backing away ever so slowly. "Whoah whoah!" Lord Elrond tried severely to calm his apprehensive horse by stroking its mane.

King Thranduil was slightly puzzled. After spending 2 days finding no trace of Legolas within Mirkwood's perimeter, he had decided to take things into his own hands. Leaving trusted elves again as guards, he had mounted the most opulent horse he could locate in of all of Mirkwood's stables, wanting to still display his legitimate power. With his majestic grand elk gone, this noble beast would have suffice. Followed closely with two soldiers at his side, he made for the next place his son must be hiding: Rivendell.

He did not anticipate however, the bizarre appearance of Lord Elrond himself waiting just outside the edge of Mirkwood.

"What dost thou think you are doing so close to Mirkwood?" Thranduil calmly asked, not wanting to provoke the Lord of Rivendell as he had done several times in the past. He gave Elrond an unwelcoming look, but remembered that he was not talking to someone beneath him. He was speaking to another ruler of Middle-earth. Dropping his hostile gaze, he witched to business. "Have you seen my son around these parts?"

Ignoring the direct question, Lord Elrond attempted a friendly countenance. "Good den, my lord. It has been far too long for I have not seen you since last year's wine arrangement. We really must meet every so of-" Elrond stopped abruptly as he noticed that Thranduil's eyes were closed, not paying any heed to his chatter.

"You always induce me into such unnecessary talk." Thranduil dramatically raised his hands to adjust his spider-like brooch on his chest as a distraction, extensive silvery garment flowing silently down to his knees. "Cease your mindless babbling at once and give me an honest explanation where you are hiding my son."

A slight pause.

"No... I have changed my mind. Tell me nothing. No doubt he is in Rivendell's palace, or you would not embark from your home to find me here."

Lord Elrond's eyes glanced away in less than a heartbeat, plan failed.

The King of Mirkwood curled his smile into a smirk. "Thank you my lord for your cooperation," he snickered. The elves then urged their regal horses on with a few whisks of elvish. "Let us go then." Thranduil brandished his other hand as a sign for his guards to follow. "You too of course."

Even with his back turned, Lord Elrond knew immediately who Thranduil was addressing.

Sighing in concern at the lack of dignity he possessed, Lord Elrond tailed the king. He silently prayed that Legolas would be strong enough to confront his brazen father in 2 days time. He wondered how the two were faring. Were they friends now?

Gazing at the barren plain that separated themselves from their fathers, Elrond breathed deeply. "Aye Valor please help them get along. I am worried they might do something foolish..."

Ni *'lassui - Thank you from my heart

Le suilon - I greet you

Le nathlam hî - You are welcome here

Peditham hi sui vellyn - May we speak as friends?

Henig - My child


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Tell It To My Heart**

Legolas half limped-half strode across Rivendell's courtyard, Estel tailing not too far behind. The boy was trying to keep up with the elf's agile pace, for injuries did not bay the prince's swiftness, wounded and all.

Used to the overwhelming freedom, the bedraggled elf needed fresh air; to take in the sights and earthy scents of the outdoors.

Sighing in annoyance, Legolas stopped so that the breathless child could catch up.

Instead, he marveled at the beautifully sculpted elven statues that decorated the courtyard while he waited, icy layers making them ominous and secretive. The more he looked into the hollow eyes of one particular elleth statue, the more he wanted to brush the snowflakes that eerily covered it. Utterly bewitching; those empty unseeing eyes and cold outward stone, just like his father.

At the sound of loud crunching footsteps, he rolled his eyes to the sky, all thoughts vanquished.

"You need not follow me." he said.

Estel looked up. "I want to know more about you, and well...the elves of Mirkwood." he cautiously announced. Estel glanced away at once, as if curiosity was a crime.

Legolas gave the boy a small grin, for he still found it abnormal that a human wanted to know the ways of an elf. "So, in other words...you wish to _study_ me?"

Estel hid a burning blush that consumed his face instantly. "N-nay and yea." He stuttered uneasily, wondering if he were making the pretty elf uncomfortable. Pretty? When had that come to mind? Shaking his own thoughts away, he persistently continued. "Are you by any chance one of King Thranduil's royal guard or servant?"

Legolas, paying no attention to the boys words, suddenly snapped around, an almost laugh forming. It turned into a wince however. "Me? A royal servant of the ruler of the Woodland Realm? How rude." The elf scoffed loudly. "It is not your place to say such words. My child, funnily enough, nay I am not. I am-"

As if on cue, a familiar creature fluttered near the elf's face, drawing nearer and nearer. Legolas stiffened, face calming immediately, not wanting to scare the delicate insect away. The elf's hair, even with the smallest patch of gloomy sunlight, glowed brightly against the dull background.

With most flowers asleep 'till spring, the chilled butterfly must have directed its flight to what stood out the most amongst the wintry wonderland. Its wings' stiff with heavy snow, the butterfly could feel its strength collapsing and nearer to a slow numbing death. With its wing badly torn, it could not migrate towards the home it had once known.

Legolas raised a finger to attract the confused insect, expertly guiding the butterfly towards his hands.

Estel watched in silent awe as the silver-haired elf quickly acted as soon as the blue butterfly neared close enough. Legolas pounced, like feline to prey, whipping his other hand around carefully but quick, cupping the insect in between his soft palms. He then quickly pivoted towards Rivendell's palace, leaving behind a shocked Estel to process the swift reflexes he had displayed.

Estel still mouth gaped open, relaxed on a frost-kissed bench near the courtyard, getting lost thought. If all warriors of Mirkwood were like this, then his fellow elves of Rivendell stood little chance against them in face of battle. He had heard from Lord Elrond himself say that the elves of Mirkwood were less wise but more dangerous and took their pride to heart. But surely they were not this capable of agility?

Still deep in thought, he failed to notice the snowflakes that were beginning to form around him, encasing him like his Ada's gentle hugs.

Suddenly, two arms grabbed his shoulders, gentle yet firm, causing Estel to jump a few feet in surprise. He heard faint laughing behind him, and he grinned. Turning as fast as could manage, he expected to find Legolas behind the startling act.

Who he saw however was another surprise, as his face was thwacked with the slushy freezing substance. It smeared his already dirtied face with watery grime, the remnants of the snowball dripping down to the ground.

The area grew quiet again, not a single sound to be heard.

"Elrohir! Elladan! No fair! I know you are around here somewhere!" Estel giggled, scanning the courtyard for any trace of his 'brothers'. Molding a jagged snowball into his raw hands, he promised that this would definitely hurt.

As soon as he readied his aim around the clearing, he was bombarded by several more snowballs, many of them directed to his stomach causing him to fall on his back.

He let out a loud "Oof!" in surprise, his ice ball falling next to him. But his descend was a relatively soft one, like landing on a pillow, for the ground was no longer sleek with ice. Over the past few minutes, it had collected fluffy white mounds of perfect snow; wonderful for a snowball fight.

Hearing his brother's snorts from their expertly picked hiding spots, Estel chuckled and sprawled his body across the snowbank, assuming a deathly appearance.

**oOo**

Legolas released the dainty butterfly inside, watching it flutter down the warm halls. He hoped it would find peace in the tranquil household of Rivendell.

Suddenly his pointed ears twitched, picking up a small familiar cry of distress from outdoors.

Sprinting to where he had last left Estel, he was just in time to witness the boys' second pummeling and the child plunge lifelessly to the ground.

Narrowing his eyes to locate the culprit, he reached for his weapons, feeling deeply concerned at Ester's limp position. His hand grabbed nothing however, and he inwardly groaned. Of course he had left his weapons in the healing room.

Breathing heavily as a reminding ache pursed from the light scar on his back, he figured he would have to make do without them.

Searching the clearing, he found the two heavily armed Elves who had caused harm to the unmoving boy, hiding behind a hedge. Gliding over the fine snow, he leapt into the air above them, gaining shouts of bewilderment from the confused two.

Elrohir and Elladan instantly moved into the offensive as well, their warrior training instinctively taking over, using their arms as shields.

But the prince reacted as well, twisting gracefully to their unprotected sides, letting his agile legs cause damage. He expertly kicked one elf in the shin, not enough to break but merely catch him off guard, and twisted his other leg to catch the second elf's ankle, unbalancing him. Faltering, their technique slipped but upon doing so, they retaliated. And a sudden fierceness not seen from before, rose.

Legolas blinked confusedly as he looked closer at both of the elves' strikingly similar features. _Two elves or one?_ He focused on finding a suitable rhythm to match theirs, his hair blazing furiously around him, eyes shooting icy daggers every so often. They were such magnificent opponents and if he wasn't blinded by revenge, he could have admitted them to be well-trained warriors.

Elladan and Elrohir gave each other a triumphant look. As twins, it was easy to send others into a state of craze, for they moved in perfect sync with one another as if they were one being. If Elrohir attacked from the right, Elladan would defend from the left and vice versa. Combined, they matched the silver-haired elf that had caught them off guard.

Sure he was good, but they were better.

Silent as the wintry weather, they grinned with confidence, battle-spirits rising as their victory grew nearer. And they began to swiftly run circles in opposite directions around the helpless elf.

Legolas could do nothing but stand still, stamina weakened, panting heavily. _Kill them or admit defeat_? But my, what a ridiculous question to ask himself!

**oOo**

Estel, acting out his stilled postion, noticed that no one had come to fetch him. Such a pity.

Suppressing the need to pout over such a childish thing, he got up, brushing the snow off of his breeches and tunic. Shaking the rest of the snow off his muddy face, he turned at the sound of strange noises and the clamor of weapons?

**oOo**

It was Legolas's turn to smirk with assurance. By diverting his attention to one of the brothers, he was able to stylishly lunge forward and grab one of their swords. And in one swift motion he unsheathed it, clenching his hand tighter around the hilt until his palm ached.

He raised it upwards instantly, liking the sturdy feel of a weapon in his hands once more, and brought it down with ease. He let it sing through the frosty air and he grew excited with pride, the elves frightened expression a sight for sore eyes.

"What are you doing? Prestad?"

A familiar voice stopped him, suspending his raised sword arm, right above one of the twin's puzzled head. Elladan and Elrohir gave each other a dark look.

"Estel you know this elf?" One of the brothers asked, staring at the willowy being before them, who had come so close to killing them.

Legolas, confused, suddenly felt a wave of understanding slap his face. "You were merely playing." He looked away, shame turning his pearl cheeks into a frenzy of rose blossoms.

"Legolas, these are my twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir." Estel shakily waved the two nervous twins closer so that they could meet. Well...meet the right way he thought.

Each of them offered their own sign of respect, whether it was a bow or a nod. Estel then motioned to Legolas. "And this is Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland Realm." He grinned as a brilliant idea popped into his head. "H-he's my bodyguard."

Surprisingly, the lie did not feel like a lie, but rather convincing and why not? The twins looked at each other, sending accusing glances at the prince. However, they nodded their approval, their wary stare not leaving the stranger for a single second. Smiling uneasily, they observed the golden haired elf clearly for the first time.

He was immensely strong, and endowed with tremendous vitality that most elves ceased to have. But his hair stood out the most amongst the white background, quite dazzling. The loose silky golden strands danced in the cold, stopping all elves who passed just to glance. It was extremely rare for an elf to have gold shimmering hair, so of course strangers would stare.

A Sindarin elf. Such a beauteous race was limited, dwindling like the last patch of snow on a Spring morn.

Elladan and Elrohir gave their brother an envious look.

Legolas rolled his eyes. His back felt numb and he just wanted to flee from prying eyes that bothered him so. Giving the twins their sword back, he apologized and walked away, his light boots barely making a sound as he padded over fresh snow.

"Halt! Meet me by the archery fields?!" A small voice called. Legolas did not need to turn to realize who had spoken.

"Aye. If that is what you wish. Let me retrieve my bow," he replied, covering up his embarrassment. Legolas nimbly ran to the healing room, stopping to grasp his decorated bow before heading out. He paused slightly, remembering his hair was unkept and he braided his usual piece of hair and then expertly tucked it behind his ear.

Deep in thought, he concluded that the boy had wonderful ideas. He had a sense of rebelliousness about him just like two other elves he knew: himself and Tauriel.

A flashback of Tauriel's betrayal ensnared his mind, creating a tangle of knots in his stomach. His heartbroken chest heaved a little as he refused to break down and sob, but he ignored it by focusing on somthing, anything he could. _Estel _came to mind?

They had just met, but the boy's warm grin seemed to move him, if only a bit. Estel had said he had wanted to know more about him, didn't he?

Legolas shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. He just needed some time in peace, before his Adar shattered it with his haughty appearance...

**oOo**

Estel could barely contain a yell of excitement as he watched the elf walk away.

Legolas must be feeling down for his mistake, and he decided to cheer him up. Giving his shocked brothers a playful smirk and a 'are you jealous?' look, he ran past them to his room.

Opening the plain wooden door, he glanced inside. Clothes were untidily left on the silky carpet beneath his feet and dozens upon dozens of studies lay scattered in every direction. His elegant bed was unmade, blankets thrown mercilessly on the floor.

"And where is my feather pen?" Not bothering to tidy up, he plowed through his things, breaking some items along the way. "Aha! The trouble to find such little things!" He exclaimed. It was attached to the wall, held there by some sort of sticky old dessert stain.

He located his desk among the rubbish and dipped his quill into the ink pad that lay on top. Using the back of an old ripped study paper as parchment, he began writing as fast as he could.

_I am very thankful that you came to my "rescue". Yea it was my brothers, but I have decided that you are loyal. I know you would have avenged my death to the best of your ability just the same. Although we know naught about each other, I feel that you are close to me. A brethren. You bring me joy like my Ada. Dost thou feel the same? I think this is the start of something good. Let us spend ur days on many adventures together!_

_Signed,_

_**Aragorn**, my real name_

He made his name nice and bold so that Legolas could see it right away. Throwing his pen recklessly to the side, he read it over. After a while, he gave a long sigh of defeat, afraid that his letter would register to the elf as dumb.

He pocketed the paper anyways and glanced outside, just in time to see a bright figure leave the gate. It was now or never! He grabbed his sturdy wooden bow, and ran through the halls.

However, he fumbled with the small paper in his hand and it floated upwards and caught the breeze, out of the palace and near Rivendell's archery field.

"Someone catch that letter!" He shouted at unmoving elven guards, but they shook their heads sympathetically, refusing to leave their posts. Waving his arms desperately to catch it, Estel hollered in fear for anyone to catch it, as if flew deeper into the fading light of the glade.

It took flight, the breeze picking up its pace, racing ever closer to the archery fields. "Ai no!" Estel worriedly began sweating as he realized whose hands it could possibly end up in.

**oOo**

Legolas caressed his bow, eyes glittering with excitement as he saw what all of Arda's beautiful outdoors offered. He stood, feet firmly locked to the ground, readying his bow, ambitiously attaching a thin elven arrow from his quiver and drawing the string.

As a familiar butterfly floated before him once more, he momentarily paused his act, head cocked warily at the strange sight. As it got closer, he noticed that its minuscule legs were holding something peculiar. A small piece of parchment?

Grinning, he switched positions, brandishing his thin bow in the direction of the faint colour of glowing blue. "Challenge accepted." In less than a second, he released the string, thin arrow penetrating the frosty air, singing as it did, and with a light rip the prince knew he had succeeded in his shot. The lone butterfly, task completed, floated daintily towards Rivendell once again.

**oOo**

Estel gasped, absorbed in the extraordinary feat Legolas had succeeded. The riveting elf had managed to precisely shoot the letter among the breeze. What skill! He wasn't even sure his brothers were half as good as he, but he would never tell them that.

Still engrossed at the scene, he sprinted as hard as his small legs could carry him in the direction he had seen the arrow fly. He wanted to retrieve it before the elf could read his foolish writing. He had to.

Lodged in the chilled dry bark of a leafy tree, he snatched the letter from the arrowhead, unaware that Legolas himself was standing behind him, passionately stroking his prized bow.

"Does that belong to you?" The prince asked. He did not look up, more interested in polishing his weapon.

Estel shivered at the thought that Legolas had come so close to reading it. "Yea." Changing the subject he grinned, "Come. You promised you would assist me in archery." He raced off, in the direction of the targets, trying ineffectively to hide his bashful face that was quickly becoming a cherry-red.

Legolas raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the secretive human and then smiled brightly as he grabbed his bow, padding silently after raggedy Estel.

Shaking his head, he felt his heart warm slightly, as he stole a glance at the beaming child that looked up to him.

**oOo**

The hours flew by like minutes as they stood side by side, expertly shooting, the moon their guide and the misty night their audience. Every so often, Legolas would look up and elegantly whisper encouraging remarks to the focused boy. With every arrow they shot, their friendship grew tremendously, until both their faces glowed white with starlight as the moon reflected their freedom.

As Legolas bent down to adjust the boys' stance, Estel dropped his bow to the ground and suddenly embraced the golden-haired elf in a warm gratified hug.

He felt the icy-eyed elf stiffen beneath him, but Estel did not care in the slightest. This was absolutely the best feeling in all of Middle-Earth. His rough small hands entwined themselves in loose golden hair, willing the larger elf to hug him back. "I give you my thanks. Le melin..."

The simple words sent Legolas's mind into a fit of shudders, his body tense. Legolas's speech failed, leaving him in stunned silence.

His brain immediately erupted into a hysteria of emotion, driving his mind into a craze of unknown feelings. For once in his ageless life, he knew not what to do or moreover how to react. It was as if someone had kindled a light inside him, then doused it, then kindled it again.

A light blush unwillingly flowered onto his smooth face, radiating a rosy heat of embarrassment. He took the younger wild-haired boy into his awkward slender arms, gently patting his back in respect. Pulling away from a disappointed Estel, he playfully brushed the icy frost that had gathered onto his filthy head.

Legolas stood up quickly, and staggered backwards, still dazed with astonishment. How could anyone learn to like him? He was a prince; withdrawn, relentless, adamant, and single-minded. Did he leave out headstrong?...Also headstrong.

"Lego-las?" Estel rapidly waved a small tender hand in front of the distant eyes that seemed to be somewhere far off. He giggled at the elf's absurd expression.

"Agorel vae." Leaving his mind, Legolas motioned to all the perfect arrows that Estel had pierced through the hearts of the targets. He tried to remain cool and collect, but the warmth from the embrace lingered, and he felt his breath quicken.

The new feeling seemed to melt his chest into water, yet slightly warm him as well, thawing at his broken heart that had wandered aimlessly after Tauriel and the pride of his father.

He could only stare into the small twinkling auburn eyes that had given him a reason for his existence.

Mind distracted, his ears failed to pick up the rumbling of crushing hooves approaching Rivendell's gate. Legolas, head in the clouds, failed to hear his imperious father arriving. And lastly, he failed to notice the ire king, earnestly scanning Rivendell for his son...

Prestad - Is there trouble?

Le melin - I love you

Agorel vae - You did well


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Frozen In Memory**

The rapid beatings of hoof meeting solid ice, shattered the peaceful silence that wavered over Rivendell. Wintry creatures scattered in every direction.

The intimidating presence of the Woodland King sent the frosty atmosphere into a blizzard of resignation. For the crackling frost-bitten trees grew solemn and the moon masked behind bleary vapor, out of sight. Even the usual trilling birds did not dare to sing one single note.

Thranduil's glittering eyes cut the briskness like a knife through air, his darkened eyebrows and eyelashes sparkling as tiny snowflakes fell delicately upon them. His usual silver robe was stunningly wrapped around his body, the spider-like brooch resting proudly upon his chest, giving his outward appearance an eerie yet glitzy touch.

The king knew his presence alone could allow him complete authority. He smugly lowered his right shoulder a bit, intentionally allowing his glossy hair fall softly forward, swaying around his intense face. He knew his appearance was astonishing and celestial to all who looked upon him. And why shouldn't they be?

The King of Mirkwood smirked and cocked his head, the leafy crown making the tall elf flamboyant and highly breathtaking.

**oOo**

The elves of Rivendell stood perplexed as they awaiting their majesty's orders. However, their words became nothing, chestnut eyes only fixed on one being that stole their attention. The graceful yet arrogant ruler they knew too well.

King Thraduil.

Lord Elrond, feeling a bit envious of all the attention diverted to the other, coughed dryly. "Ahem. It seems that King Thranduil is here to escort his son back to Mirkwood...nothing more." He glanced nervously at one of his trusted partners by his side, Lindir, giving him a 'you know what to do' look.

The auburn haired guard nodded hurriedly, a worried expression overtaking his face at once knowing exactly what Lord Elrond had meant him to carry out.

Making sure he was not followed, he all but sprinted to Rivendell's grand place, hair swirling behind. Lindir headed down the spiraling descending dark staircase to Rivendell's wine cellars, not bothering to apologize to the several elves he had mercilessly trampled.

He descended, leaving the brightly-light ongoings above, the dimness making the important trip rather gloomy...

**oOo**

Thranduil's eyes scanned the crowd, searching, but the face he sought was nowhere to be found. Impatient as ever, he guided his beast near Rivendell's courtyard quietly away from the chattering crowd, doing his best to slip unnoticed.

"King Thranduil? Departing so soon?" Lord Elrond, raised an eybrow, playful grin plastered. He had been watching the King's failed attempt at escaping. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" He jerked his head towards the healing room. "My guards say that Legolas has recovered, for the spider's lethal incision was no match for-"

King Thranduil whirled his head around, in a mixture of shock and anger, an emotion not so attractive on his face. "What is this wound you speak of?" He growled dangerously, dropping his intense glare lower than low. His face twisted into a malice one. "My son is by far the finest warrior in all of Mirkwood next to me. If you dare to challenge his skill, you challenge mine." Thranduil's light hair spilled around, waving around the Kings' face as if taunting the Lord.

Lord Elrond grimaced, his plan to not upset the king, obviously demolished in one single blow. "This is not about you" he muttered bitterly under his breath.

"Why, I thought you to be informed. Legolas arrived not too many eves ago, severely wounded with a vicious poison lodged in his back, no doubt from a _Mirkwood_ spider." Lord Elrond spoke and glanced at the king warily.

Thranduil felt himself slip into oblivion. Half of his face twitched into a frown of desperate worry at the significantly ill news the Lord had presented him with. Only three words echoed throughout his mind: Legolas. Wounded. Mirkwood.

And how did it come to be that this event occurred?" He seethed quietly, keeping his cool. It would be unwise to let off unnecessary steam unto one who was being so _informative_.

Lord Elrond, watching the other elf with caution, knew exactly where this was heading and decided to switch the conversation around. He quickly slid off his horse with a light thump, giving Thranduil a glint that said to do the same. "You need not worry for him. Come. You are in Rivendell my friend and I would greatly enjoy your company."

The King of Mirkwood's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but complied just the same to show he respected Elrond's offering. He gracefully leapt off his elegant horse, robe touching wintry layers and he lazily hoisted his reins for Lord Elrond to take.

Lord Elrond, back turned from the king, grasped Thranduil's opulent steed. He was glad he could finally be in control of the situation. "I bid you welcome as always Thranduil, although you always seem to show uninvited." He chuckled and stopped speaking to pat the velvety back of Thranduil's stallion. "As I have said earlier, na saian luume'," Elrond gave a low chortle. "The same goes for your last one predicament-"

He paused as he noticed that the King hadn't made so much of a sound in quite a while. Turning his head swiftly, his eyes met an empty courtyard, finding himself completely alone in the bitter wind.

Lord Elrond frowned, wondering just how hard it would be to track the disdainful king down. "Aye Valor, that elf drives me mad."

Thranduil's horse, taking advantage of the distracted lord, hastily chomped down onto the elf's chestnut appealing hair, gaining an undignified shout that echoed throughout Rivendell.

**oOo**

King Thranduil knew it was disrespectful to leave Elrond in empty suspense, but he had better things to do than wait around. He needed to see for himself that his ionneg was safe.

As for last years' annual wine-tasting festival well...that was another story. His cheeks playfully blushed a slight peach, but he shook it off. Still aimlessly walking over grave snowy earth, he scoured the sullen wood half-heartedly for his son. Was his presence the reason Legolas had been injured?

Tauriel's image unwillingly entered his mind, her maroon hair taunting him as she gave him a severe glare. Her stinging words had left deep scars embedded in the king's head, forever etched until death.

_You think your life is worth more than theirs? There is no love in your actions._

Her words mercilessly teased him, like a hunter with prey before consumption. The Elvenking stopped midway through his pacing. Half embedded in light snow lay a beautiful radiant rose.

_There is no love in you..._

Tauriel's sickening phrase echoed eternally in his mind, twisting and boring into his skull like a wild serpent thrashing wildly for its life. He despised admitting it, but truth lay behind her words. Was he always this cold-hearted?

He knew the answer however and it brought back haunting melodies, causing him to stagger like a wounded animal, for in a way he was wounded as well.

Concluding the battle at Erebor, Tauriel had asked for the one thing that sent the king into remorse, glancing fearfully at his trembling hands. He had been pressured into granting her that deadly act, for all the torment she had caused himself and his son was unbearable. He had come too close to carrying out her last wish. But enough blood had been spilt that awful night.

Shaking immensely, his remote gaze suddenly grew chilling and with a cry of incredulity, he slammed his boot down hard. Dragging his foot cruelly over the object, the snow underneath left a misshapen imprint and scattered red debris. The fragmented petals eerily spilt over the new blanket of white snow, dotting it crimson...

Love would forever mean the end of life. "Aye Valor what am I doing? I know not what to do with or without my son." A light glimmering tear trickled down his smooth flesh, causing the arrogant King into withdrawing to the depths of masking his true emotions once more.

He knew now for certain that Legolas had been in some sort of trouble, but failed to see it. He had seen the confused blue eyes that had desperately begged his father for approval. To get to know him better. And what had he done? He had turned his back, like the many others he had done so in the past.

The tears of the lonely king trickled silently, dripping beautifully past his lip, and sinking into the barren frozen earth that accompanied him. Brushing them away slowly with his thin fingers, he scoured the area once more, his eyesight a bit bleary but nevertheless still keen.

Running a hand down the left side of his face, he shivered at the coldness of his hands. "I will find you ion-non. You need me...and though I dare not speak it, I need you as well..." Absentmidly, he stroked his cheek, the unblemished smoothness, a lie.

The scarred burns of war snapped him from his dreamy faze, back to reality...

**oOo**

Legolas gasped in surprise, his beauteous bow falling to the snow with a soft thud.

A curious Estel took in the peculiar expression that overwhelmed the silver elf. Legolas was trying desperately to shroud his emotions. "Is something the matter? Lle tyava quel?"

Legolas gave the small boy an apologetic look. "It seems we must go back to the palace. Your Ada awaits your arrival."

Estel grinned in delight, jumping merrily into the brisk air, whole face seeming to brighten Legolas's crestfallen mood slightly. Estel laughed cheerfully, pulling the confused elf by his tunic in Rivendell's direction, the exquisite palace structures glowing brightly in the night. "Wait 'till Ada lays his eyes on you! The last time he saw you was when you had fallen ill." He stopped dragging the baffled elf and ran a little ways off, marveling at the wintry wood that lay in their path before Rivendell.

Legolas's features softened at the boys' growing enthusiasm but he anxiously wondered what would come next. Would he have to depart soon? How would Estel react once he told him he was to search for someone he hardly knew? Would Estel react at all?

No.

He would stay.

This Strider was not as important to him as-

He was awakened startlingly out of his thoughts however as a freezing substance messily splattered his golden hair. It dappled his hair white, causing the elf prince to reluctantly shake the flaky contents off.

Smiling blithely, the elf cast his dignified appearance aside to tenderly scoop up a handful of flawless snow, gentle hands carefully molding it into the perfect sphere.

Estel giggled, hiding behind a frost covered tree, prideful of what he had started. He was excited about another game, for they were almost too near the border of Rivendell's entrance and he had hoped they could keep their fun a bit longer.

Legolas's ears perked, picking up the rustling of crisp leaves, astirring with grace, barely noticing winters chill blowing on his pale skin. For the the nighttime wood was a most wonderful thing to get lost in; a magical wonderland filled with glittering frost, the stars twinkling in comparison.

He searched for Estel's hiding spot as he prepared to lash out with multiple snowballs instead of one. Silvery strands of hair fell delicately onto his sapphire eyes, concealing his dangerous glint as a light snowstorm began to whistle dangerously. Shielding his eyes, he heard a small clamor to his right. Legolas smirked at the Estel's obvious carelessness, diverting his attention to that one spot.

"How foolish to make noise, my lad!" He laughed quietly.

And as fast as lightning, his perfectly muscled arms pitched three outstanding snowballs in the direction the stirrings had taken place.

As soon as he let go however, a thin sheet of sweat instantly covered his brow. His arms slowly lowered to his side, glimpsing Estel's brown tunic visibly sticking out from another tree to his far left.

What mistake had he made this time? If Estel was on the far side of him, then what in all of Middle-Earth had he thrown at?

His eyes widened in surprise and slow terror crawled in the pit of his stomach, devouring him from the inside, as he realized too late the figure that met his gaze. His chapped lips parted in warning but no words arose before the emotionless elf about to be blasted by snow of his own doing. It was as if the elf had forgotten the very language his kin had inherited.

Instead, it was the cold figure that had spoken a soft "Legolas-" upon meeting icy eyes with angst filled cerulean ones.

**oOo**

Thranduil's peculiar gaze and intense features turned to relief at the sight of his son but it lasted little. No more than half a second later did a rushing array of icy snow head towards himself.

Swiftly drawing his twin swords from beneath his garb, he elegantly wielded them around his refined physique, sighing as he did while lunging forward. He effortlessly sliced through the first snowball, cleanly in half, spilling its flaky contents over the ground like flower petals. The same event went for another as the shot was disintegrated into powdery snow, halfway through its journey with a simple whiz through the air.

As he glimpsed the prince's alarmed appearance, the king disregarded the final one, a flaw in the elf's reflex.

It barreled directly into the king's leafy crown, catching a thorny angle and sending the headpiece tumbling gracefully to the icy ground...

Lle tyava quel? - Do you feel well?

Na saian luume - It has been too long

**How was it? :( I didn't make them have much dialogue but I wanted the focus to be on Thranduil. The next one will have much more! :D thx for reading as always!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Prepare yourselves for one lengthy chapter! Wow this took me forever. :)**

**Chapter 11: No Ordinary Love**

_Acknowledge both the heat_

_And the cold of your heart_

_For this is no ordinary love_

The snowstorm picked up, howling alluringly, violently sweeping the wood into its enchanting dance, sending frost here and there every so often. Nothing moved as if time had frozen over completely, the three figures awkwardly standing, more entranced in one another than the bitter wind cruelly encircling them.

Estel nearly fainted.

Too much gracefulness in one day had overridden his young mind to the limit. He would have fallen behind his tree too if not for noticing the resemblance between the strange enticing elf and Legolas. Watching the crown fall to the ground gave Estel the confirmation that the stranger was a king of some sort.

Time was lost between the two elves, their stunning eyes fixed on each other's as if searching, hopeful for understanding. Their glimmering glossy hair swayed in unison, the snow seeming to float and swirl around their perfect physique as if magic.

Comparing their stature, the strange elf was taller and more intimidating, his lips pursed into a frown? What kept Estel rooted to his hiding spot however was Legolas's expression of disturbance.

Who was this noble peculiar elf to send Legolas into a state of fretfulness? Surely if Legolas was his servant the king would command him to do his royal bidding?

Legolas on the other hand, was clearly in shock, anger turning his pale beautiful face slightly irritated and more bleak. But the prince couldn't help the tiny smirk that escaped his lips as he watched his father's crown fall in slow-motion to the cloaked earth.

Opening his mouth partway to unleash a bitter remark, the prince found he could not. All that came was a huff of chilly air.

Thranduil gave the prince a scowl but it instantly twisted into a smug smile as if he were hiding some dark thought or action. He elegantly reached down and clasped icy snow in his palm, raising it immediately. He released it agilely.

The prince had absolutely no time to react, still stymied, and before he knew it, a clump of snow had slammed into him, splattering in all directions.

Legolas's shocked gaped mouth was instantly covered with powdery snow and he coughed bitterly, the freezing substance tickling his nose and threatening to cause him a sneeze.

Estel, behind his cracked tree, was unsure whether to laugh or be frightened. The cold glint in the lonely king's eyes did not go unnoticed, causing a shiver to run down Estel's spine...

"Na vedui. You have evaded my eyesight for quite some time." The Woodland King strode, barely making any noise as he crossed the blanket of snow that now overspread the once grassy earth, towards the stunned prince.

Head held superiorly, his piercing eyes gave the elf a stern half-smile. He passed the fallen crown that lay exposed without even a glance, hands neatly behind his back and his silver expensive garment spreading superbly behind.

He opened his mouth, once again to speak with his son.

Estel watched the threatening king move closer to his friend. Trying to suppress overwhelming panic that Legolas refused move, he immediately believed the stranger had issued a freezing spell of some sort. Was the king going to kill his friend?

Gulping down his apprehension, he took a deep breath and made up his mind that he would protect his companion.

Doing so, by charging directly into the King.

"Lego-ugh!" Thranduil gave out an undignified choke, as his words were caught in his throat. A small object had collided with his side, causing him to momentarily lose his breath.

Turning swiftly, he unsheathed one of his silver swords, swiveling his body to frighten whatever crashed into him.

Instead of meeting empty air however, he felt his weapon rebound, a sharp echoing clang issuing upon impact.

"Please lay your weapons down Adar." Legolas blinked, eyes glistening with concern. Both his well-built arms were fastened in a tight position, twin daggers locked with the king's longer sword.

Estel opened his eyes and quickly lowered his protective arms. To his sweet relief, he wasn't cut in half due to the fact Legolas had spiraled towards the king, weapons unveiled. However, one word did not escape his ranger hearing. Adar?

"And who might this be?" Thranduil turned his interested gaze onto the human boy that had assaulted him. He cocked his head as if observing the humans' choppy movements.

Estel nervously wriggled from his frightened position behind Legolas.

The prince gently patted Estel's dirty muddled hair and gave Thranduil a warning flash that said the boy was his companion.

"Who-wha- is going on?" Estel chattered timdly. He felt slightly brave now that Legolas here but he was very confused and cold, the wintry weather numbing his small body. Legolas noticed Estel's discomfort and gave Thranduil a long blank stare.

"Adar we should proceed inside." He motioned to the shivering human who was struggling to get both of his raggedy boots unstuck from a blanket of deep snow.

Thranduil sighed deeply, his chances of apologizing obviously ruined by this insolent boy. "Aye. I agree." He gave Estel a glance of annoyance and said no more. He nodded to his son, permitting him to help the child.

Legolas pranced over to Estel and with one swift easy motion, he yanked the child out from the snow with a loud "pop." He smiled at the confused face Estel gave him. No doubt what was running through that small curious head of his. If Thranduil was a king and his father, what did that make Legolas?

Estel nearly tripped over his own two feet, his head spinning with so many questions that he felt on the brink of exploding. Barely noticing a smooth hand grasp his own raw fingers, he felt himself being gently dragged toward Rivendell.

The king swooped down like an eagle upon prey, thin fingers grasping his headpiece and pulling up with such grace. Glittering snowflakes scattered.

Legolas brought the boy closer to himself, hoping to keep him warm but without much success. Legolas's optimistic face from before had disappeared. It was now an emotionless expression that suggested he was tense with anxiety but hiding it. And he hid it well.

**oOo**

Upon reaching Rivendell's marvelous archway entrance, Estel was half frozen, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. His eyes were shut to shield his eyes from the biting gust.

Lord Elrond greeted them, his restless appearance calming once he saw Estel. "Ion-nin, where have you been? You know you cannot withstand the cold like elves do." Elrond rapidly threw a silk embroidered sheet around the frozen boy, and embraced him with fatherly love.

Estel blushed slightly, feeling many eyes on him and his Ada. He struggled in the embrace.

Elrond turned his head to glance behind. "'Quel undome. You are our guests for tonight." He bowed his head in respect to the two silver-haired elves who were both _very_ much apart.

Raggedy-haired Estel grinned gaily at Legolas. "You must be eager to eat. I'm sure Sylvan elves feast and drink too!" Legolas was about to correct that he was not Sylvan, when laughing enthusiastically, Estel stole Legolas's lengthy bow. The boy stumbled down to the dining hall, his blanket flying behind. He continued shouting to no one in particular that he was starving.

This left Legolas, Elrond, and Thranduil alone in awkward silence. They all anxiously fidgeted; Legolas nervously studying a rather intriguing painting of Rivendell, Elrond nodding as elves carrying silver platters full of food waited for his approval, and Thranduil gazing intently at his son, relieved he had come across him intact.

The King of Mirkwood sighed, not knowing how to approach him but made up his mind that he would address the prince much later. Alone.

As Estel rushed towards them to show them to their seating at Rivendell's embellished table, Lord Elrond stopped him in his tracks, handing him silken garnished napkins. "Set these so Legolas will be seated next to you and Thranduil next to me near the head of the table."

Estel tilted his head. "Thranduil?"

Legolas laid a fine hand on Estel's shoulder to gain the boy's attention and then bowed, tunic brushing Estel's breeches softly. "If I remember correctly, I have failed to mention who I am mellon-nin."

He made a grand gesture to his cross-armed father. "Meet Thranduil, Ruler of the Woodland Realm...and also my Adar."

Estel timidly look up at the tall high and mighty King that held so much power with just his presence.

Remembering Legolas behind him, he turned to face the other elf he had come to know as his friend. Legolas nudged the human a bit, so that he could stand directly in front of the Woodland King.

"And this, Adar, is Estel. He is half-elven, raised by Lord Elrond."

Thranduil lazily acknowledged the boy with an annoyed tilt of his head, before studying a most interesting decoration.

Legolas kneeled courteously in front of the human, so he could look directly into the younger boys' widened eyes.

"And I, mellon-nin, am the Prince of Mirkwood." He added rather quickly and embarrassingly, "Not Thranduil's servant."

Estel eyes widened at once, his pupils seeming like they would pop out of his skull and blinked once, not sure if he had heard correctly. He grinned, believing that Legolas was joking, but the serious expression on his face told no lies. "Aiya!"

Instantly, his face turned a dark shade of purple and then an enormous flush of ruby. He ducked his head behind Lord Elrond's long teal robe, screening his flustered face. He had befriended an elf prince? This new elegant tall elf was Legolas's father? What in all of Arda was happening?

A huge smile lit up Elrond's face and he couldn't help a chuckle, glancing warily at the Elvenking. He seriously hoped he wasn't upset.

Thranduil scoffed at Legolas's last words in disbelief and pivoted away. All the unnecessary talk was wasting his precious time with his son...

**oOo**

At the table, conversation was limited. No one spoke, with the exception of Lord Elrond and Lindir, who were nervously arguing whether it was a good idea to bring a leather bottle of wine out with Thranduil present.

Legolas had no appetite, his back still sore and sharp convulsions would resurface every now and then. He would twitch restlessly, cautiously checking the others, praying to the Valar that they wouldn't notice.

Estel, on the opposite side of the table (he chose to sit there rather than beside Legolas) couldn't bear to make eye contact with the dignified Prince, feeling rather upset, tossing his greens sloppily around his plate.

Legolas unfortunately noticed and tried to amuse Estel by expertly throwing a lustrous knife at a piece of pie that one of the auburn elves was carrying to his father. His cerulean eyes twinkled slightly with mirth. Thranduil hated pies.

With a silent flit, it flew through the air and made direct contact with the creamy filling. Estel ignored the action, feeling slightly deceived that the prince had not told him earlier that he was a prince, and rolled his eyes to the elaborate paintings on ceiling, feigning to study every detail.

Finally having enough, he pushed his sterling plate away and his seat back. He bowed, his scraggly hair falling beside his shoulders.

"It was nice to meet you my lords. Tenna' tul're." Looking directly and only at his Ada, he asked to be excused. "Amin autien rath."

Lord Elrond nodded, seeing the heavy tension between Legolas and Estel, and got up to squeeze his son. Estel clasped Elrond back half-heartedly, feeling guilty as he glimpsed Legolas's remote face out of the corner of his eye.

Thranduil had gotten up, his resplendent garment glistening under the lighting and had laid a serene hand upon his son's shoulder. Estel's keen eyes did not miss the ripple of alarm that passed through the prince's body as Thranduil whispered something inaudible into his ear.

What he did hear however was a quiet, "If you wish."

Legolas looked away and father and son celestially made their way out of the heavily kindled halls into nighttide.

**oOo**

The two royals nimbly climbed their way up to Rivendell's most secluded and admirable spot, below the roaring waterfall. It reflected the full moon, icy water glistening with pure starlight. The droplets playfully sprayed the two elves beneath.

Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, his unblemished face catching nippy frost. He felt at peace with the refreshing air of night. "It it most beauteous."

Not giving the king a chance to reply, he turned to face his scornful father, hair lustrously swinging in the other direction. "You wished to speak to me about departing with you come 'morrow?"

"Aye." The King of Mirkwood, closed his eyes, crown glinting as if reminding Legolas that he was indeed king."As ruler and father, you must respect my wise decision for you to return home. Put off this absurd quest for the time being. I had sent you to search for a ranger, not some obnoxious boy and I will not have you fleeing from me again." He held his head up high, displaying his dominance and offered his flawless ringed hand.

"You believe that by forcing me to stay, I will obey?" Legolas retorted, voice rising with every word. "In all due respect, that obnoxious human, Estel, has shown me many things that I have never experienced before."

He paused giving Thranduil a forbidding frown. "If I may, I fail to recall ever having a fathe-"

Legolas stopped mid-sentence, withholding his breath of astonishment as his father took him into his delicate arms. Took him in his arms? Pardon?

"A-adar? I am no elfling!" Was all he managed to say.

"My little Greenleaf, ever is thy sight a joy." Thranduil's flushed lips softly whispered Legolas's last name sympathetically, burying his pale face into the prince's hair. "I may have learnt something yet during this chaotic hunt for thee." The king muttered, chin now on top of his son's head.

Thranduil could no longer keep up the cold act he had begun. All he felt was overwhelming worry, near the brink of tears as his son scolded him. "I must have distracted you in Mirkwood and threw your perfect skill off. You are a mighty warrior and a skillful bowman. Goheno-nin. That must be the only reason for you to have faltered."

Thranduil quickly grazed his fingertips lightly over the princes' old gash, gaining a weak grunt of pain.

Legolas turned his head, feeling slightly ashamed but grateful for the apology, and warmly clutched Thranduil's silvery garment. "You are correct Adar. I apologize as well for fleeing."

Thranduils smooth arms held his son closer to his thin body; never wanting to let go ever again, never wanting to experience the empty pain over and over. Never wanting the only thing related to his wife, in flesh and blood to disappear from his sight ever again.

"Will you accompany me ion-nin? I will answer any questions that you have for me 'morrow." Thranduil lifted a thin finger to stroke the face that looked so much like his deceased wife. "You must obey my decision for you Legolas. I want very much to protect you."

Legolas saw the plea behind the icy eyes that completed the sullen expression of the king's face.

"Estel," Legolas whispered.

It was the one word that completed him, gave him a reason to be happy, the name of his only friend.

Glancing at the powerful look that his father was giving him however, he assured himself he was making the right decision. His father needed him as much as he, Legolas, wanted a father.

Conetnt, the Prince of Mirkwood nodded, slender hands grasping Thranduil's robe tightly as if he too wanted nothing more than to start a new relationship. As their embrace neared its end, he extended a hand, taking his fathers smooth one in his own as agreement.

"Aye Adar, I will accompany you to the household of the Sylvan elves we once knew; Greenwood..."

The waterfall crashing behind drowned out their voices, their twinkling sapphire eyes gazing at the pure moon. Only their silhouettes were visible to those who roamed below...

**oOo**

Estel's eyes swimmed with new tears as he witnessed and heard every single statement that left the elves' lips. He had snuck out of bed under Lord Elrond's nose to apologize for neglecting Legolas during dinner.

But he wasn't expecting the event that followed as he eavesdropped from a tree. Toppling insensibly down to solid stone, he ran hard, boots echoing with loud clonks, loosely flowing tears spilling and leaving a fresh trail behind.

Aye Valar! Why didn't he speak to Legolas before?! Now he would never be able to again!

Upon reaching his room, Estel threw himself onto his messy bed, curling up under his luxurious sheets into a fetal position. He wept.

Pillow damp from tears, he rummaged through his raggedy pocket from his breeches and drew his parcel. He had one chance!

Hopefully that one chance would be enough...

Ne vedui - At last

Aiya! - Oh!

Tenna' tul're - Until tommorow

Amin autien rath - I wish to go to bed

**Phew. So...pies! :D Will Estel succeed in convincing Legolas to stay? Thx for reading as always :) ~DefyingDeath**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: May Thy Path Be Golden**

A sudden knock on his door jolted the Prince of Mirkwood wide awake, almost too loud for him. He lazily stretched his lean muscled arms, pushing himself off the palace bed where he lay.

Striding across the room Lord Elrond had lent him, he tidied himself up to the best of his ability. He had ot enjoyed a bath in quite a while. Promising himself that would be the first thing he would do in Mirkwood, he grabbed his quiver and bow that had been fetched from where Estel had hidden it.

He did not need to put his ear against his door to tell that Thranduil was anxiously pacing about outside, the king's robe dusting the floors. "Adar I _can_ hear you. Please enter."

The King of Mirkwood twitched. Of course his son could hear him. He had merely been waiting for the right moment for permission to enter the room. As Thranduil stalked inside, Legolas noticed that the king had replaced his leafy crown for his glimmering silver one. Watching the cerulean eyes glimpse up at his head, the king spoke. "Of course, today is fairly a special occasion."

He did not have the heart to tell the prince that he was much too lazy to put his other crown above his head.

To distract him, Thranduil quickly swept all of the prince's sleek hair in one swift motion, nimble fingers finishing the usual plait. "Your horse awaits you. We must leave at once if we are to reach Mirkwood by mid-nigh'."

Legolas nodded in defeat, feeling down. With Estel around, he was able to forget his agonizing heartaches. Would he have to go back to the darkness that tormented him endlessly?

"Oh ionneg, halt." The lustrous king gracefully held out his smooth palm and cocked his noble head to one side. "Your mother loved you very much." he repeated as if nothing else should be said.

Legolas glanced down, and inwardly held a breath, as he stared mesmerized at what lay. Cupped gently in Thranduil's smooth hand was the starlight gem necklace the king had risked his immortal life for. It was a stunning sight, for the gemstones reflected a pure light, gleaming and piercing the day with its own vivid luminosity.

"I-I- know not what you wish for me to do with this." Legolas stuttered, his speech irrelevant at the moment.

"It is a gift...and a promise."

Thranduil softly placed the necklace in the prince's trembling hands and turned on his heels. "Give it to the elleth you wish to wed. Or keep it, for it matters little to me now. Without your mother, I have no use for it except memory. It is a symbol of love Legolas, and I hope you accept it from me..." Thranduil stylishly raised an elegant hand to his chest and bowed his head.

"Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin." Legolas breathed.

Peculiar. Was his father well? Thranduil never displayed acclamation to anyone, other than receiving it.

Returning the bow exquisitely, he stood straight, quietly tailing Thranduil out of his room and slowly throughout the corridors to Rivendell's shiny archway gate. The royal family gained several eyes as Rivendell elves strained to witness the glorious elites. The bright sun peeked through dense clouds, melting most of the snow, the glow causing both the Woodland elves' hair to gleam in all its glory.

Legolas's keen eyes desperately searched the palace doors and windows from the gate for his small friend. "I never bid him farewell." Picking up no trace of the slightest movement, he sighed, dropping his sullen gaze to the stone ground. As Thranduil gave his son a 'we must depart' glance, Legolas mounted his steed, throwing his right leg over first, not wanting to cause discomfort to his scarred back.

**oOo**

Estel snored loudly, tossing and turning restlessly. Staying up to eavesdrop the previous night had taken a mighty toll on the human's sleepy body.

If it wasn't for him accidentally roll and hit his shaggy head unto the palace floor with a low "bonk", he might have not have waken at all. Rubbing his eyes open with his rough small palms, he jerked upright with remembrance.

"Why didn't Ada wake me?" he groggily whispered. "Aye me! Have I missed their leave?" Hurriedly jumping out of his night tunic he pounced into his regular shabby garment, and dashed out the door.

He rushed back in however, to grab his parchment before running out again.

Darting in and out through halls, the soon-to-be King of Gondor scampered towards Rivendell's gate, his wavy ragged hair tangling from his uneven movements. Please Valar, let it not be too late! Turning a tight corner, he skidded and glanced outside.

Covering his chestnut eyes from the translucent sun, he turned his head anxiously, searching for the one being he had wished to spend eternity with on adventures.

And there he was!

**oOo**

Legolas had turned his back on Rivendell, still upon his royal horse, more interested on his father ahead who was elegantly thanking Lord Elrond for his hospitality. His horse noticed the somber face the prince was giving, and tossed his mane to snap his master out of his bitter trance. No response came from the melancholy elf, his eyes blank and dreary in deep thought. His elven ears twitched slightly however as he heard the faintest annoying voice echo disturbingly throughout the grand halls. He whipped his head around, his hair whirling behind, clear sapphire eyes seeking the wild-haired boy.

"Legolas!" Estel called, his hands cupped around his rough face, nearly to tears as he made eye contact with the admirably refined elf. "Daro!" He recklessly darted forward, not bothering to apologize as he caused other elves to rush out of his way.

Legolas slid of his white horse and cordially kneeled, wanting to be eye-level with Estel. "I am returning to my home, Mirkwood, forgive me mellon-nin for not telling you." he said blankly. "I did not want to see you in distress so I did not speak of it."

Legolas's chilling bleak face did not seem to change on the outside, but Estel knew the prince was internally delighted he had come. "Its fine." He gave the prince a glum but sneaky grin. "I overheard your conversation yesterday nigh." Estel's face suddenly grew dark with sorrow once more. "I apologize for avoiding you yesterday but you mustn't leave me here alone! You swore to protect me, if I recall correctly."

Legolas blinked emotionlessly, twisting his head to the other side, not wanting the child to see the agonizing pain reflected in his own clear blue ones. "Don't be selfish my mellon, I must obey the King of Mirkwood."

He stole a glance at Thranduil, who was busy scorning at Elrond about unnecessary talk and haughtily holding his head up high. "I am happy you have come to wish me well however. You mean as much to me as the river flowing sweet and the trees swaying freely." The Prince gracefully placed one arm around the boy at an attempted embrace, his silvery hair falling to his muscled thin shoulders.

The rugged boy sniffed quietly, a noise not gone unnoticed by the elf and clung to Legolas's arm, wondering if he would ever see the serene warrior again.

As Legolas gently pulled away again, Estel remembered his task and pulled out a piece of ripped crumpled paper, waving it around wildly as if Legolas was going to vanish into a cloud of dust. "A gift. It seems I will not sway your mind but perhaps this will do?" Estel's voice cracked hopeful, his eyes threatening to break out with tears.

Legolas swiped the letter he had pierced earlier and sighed with grief as he did so. "I will read it once I arrive in Mirkwood. Tenna' ento lye omenta." Not wanting to see the raggedy-haired child's obvious expression of dispiritedness, he turned swiftly, feeling sick of heart and downright regretful of his sudden action.

Mounting Silevon, he forced his beast into a slow trot, following his father and several other Mirkwood guards, his face expertly masking a downhearted appearance. Aye Valar. Why must life be so cruel?

He quickly blinked away his emotions and returned to the cold prince he once was. I have duties to perform and although this one friendship was nice, I knew it would not last, he thought to himself darkly. I am the Prince of Mirkwood.

**oOo**

Estel stood in shock, his mind clouded with rejection. This wasn't suppose to happen! Legolas was supposed to read it now! No! This wasn't right! He thought of sprinting after them but instead, he dropped to his knees in defeat, Lord Elrond placing a comforting hand on his back.

"I am sorry ion-nin for not permitting you to accompany them, but Mirkwood is full of foul creatures of all-"

"Legolas and the Woodland elves are not foul Ada." Estel brushed the smooth hand away and stood up, walking heavy heartedly toward Rivendell's courtyard where he had first glanced Legolas -or rather some of him. Nimbly scaling the wall separating Rivendell from vast Middle-Earth, he balanced himself. Estel weeped cheerlessly as he watched the elves grow ever fainter and fainter. "May thy path be golden and green. Tenna' san'..." he whispered, sniffling and making his dirty-raggedy sleeve damp...

**oOo**

The day turned from bright to dull as the Legolas and his father rode effortlessly onward, their graceful horses sprinting towards Mirkwood as the day wore on. No words were spoken during the long barren trip, their focus on other things. Estel could not leave the prince's mind alone, whereas Legolas could not leave the king's thoughts.

Nightfall enveloped them in pitch-darkness as they neared the North edge of Mirkwood. As the elves internally rejoiced at the familiar scenery, they gasped suddenly for could not suppress a cry of distress of what horrid scene lay before them.

The woodland was a sickeningly ghastly sight, which was saying plenty for it looked more appalling and haunting than ever. The ashen deviating branches loomed above their heads as if luring the elves ever closer.

What made the Prince of Mirkwood shiver internally with horror however was the abhorrent fresh crimson that stained the forest floor, varnishing the murky cobwebs a red tone.

The prince looked away as confusion dawned as realization, breathing heavily, silently praying to Valar through clenched eyes.

By the sea and stars!? What in all of Arda happened here? Instinctively, he drew his narrow bow, arms latching a razor-sharp tipped arrow to it, as he glanced uneasily at the blood splash that carpeted the musky web-covered glade.

Thranduil attempted to remain calm, hastily silencing the distraught elves by his side with a whispered "Khila amin." Inside his mind however, thoughts swirled around in confusion and dread as he glimpsed the eerie sight upon the cold ground.

Immediately, he clasped the hilts of his blades, not liking this in the slightest.

As the whimsical elves stealthily flew through the red wood, they halted at the King's sudden command.

Thrandul's ears twitched with apprehension, alerting his son to be on his guard, his eyebrows furrowing darkly over his glacial eyes. "Tira ten' rashwe. Enemies, no doubt of Mirkwood, are present."

Smirking, the noble troupe nimbly jumped down, keen elven eyes flashing over the wicked distorted forest shapes. As a crackling sound from their right emanated, the noble company turn swiftly, elven weapons skillfully unveiled at once.

When doing so however, a roar of fury echoed eerily, a figure bursting out from behind the brambled thicket. The thick overcast made the intruder unknown and all the more ominous.

The dark enemy now close ranged, Legolas switched to his deadly twin blades, easily locking with a jagged blood-soaked weapon above his head. But the substance trickled down and stained his fair golden hair red, like a deadly rose...

Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin - I shall cherish this gift with my heart

Daro! - Stop!

Tenna' ento lye omenta - Until next we meet

Tenna' san' - Until then

Khila amin - follow me

Tira ten' rashwe - Be careful

**Shorter chapter but its preparation for the next one! I've been busy with school but updating very very very soon! :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**Yay! Another chapter completed! This is by far my favorite of all I've written. Hope you like! :)**

**Chapter 13: The Hunters Below The Thicket**

The forest erupted into creaking laughter, the rustling deafening. Only the King's eloquent elvish was heard above the roar. "Ndengina ta. Now." At the austere sound of the Woodland Ruler, the gnarled trees ceased their chatter, resuming their usual quiet phase.

The prince smirked, responding to the order." Arching his body backwards, Legolas swiped his blade cleanly forward with such vitality that it skimmed the fell creature from vile head to stomach, blood spurting in several directions. Narrowly twisting to avoid an attack from behind, the prince moved his arms into a steady rhythm, dancing to the hollow wind.

As he jumped nimbly into the air, he saw closely the foul details that helped him conclude that the vulgar creature was indeed what he had been expecting. "Orc filth!" Twirling his body in the direction of the quietly observing elves, he threw the dagger fantastically behind him without looking, face only glowering with concern directed at the Elvenking. "Ta naa neuma! This was merely a scout. We must warn Mirkwood-"

"Ionneg, they may already realize what has happened amongst the Woodlands borders. I fail to know for sure however, and I worry of what has befallen them." The king dared not take his eyes off the dense woods while he spoke. "We will travel through the trees of Mirkwood to reach the palace. We shall fight for our homeland to the death if we must." He curled his lip into a smirk. They were the dominant ones.

"Lye naa lle nai." Legolas and the two elven guards proudly acknowledged their forbidding leader.

Legolas padded forward and held his etched bow to his heart. "My bow shall sing with your sword my lord." Thranduil half-smiled audaciously, beckoning them forward. They leapt stealthily up into the canopy, sending leaves daintily to the lush floor.

"How much longer?" A vicious Orc of considerable measure frothed. "My knife longs for much more sweet blood of our foes." He impatiently sharpened his scarlet splattered sword with another pair of intense knives. The horrible rustic screeching sent dozens of orcs growling his way, as they threateningly raised their own weapons.

One of the most intimidating of the orc group snarled menacingly. "You insolent fool! Rhogdul has left precise orders to wait here. You would do best obey them, or I might dispose of you myself before you kill us all! His wrath is not one I am willing to face."

He towered over the smaller orc who had disturbed the rest and sneered as he felt waves of fear radiate from him. "They will return shortly, with the sweet stain of red forever embedded in their armour." As he ruthlessly stomped away, a single leaf fluttered lifelessly to the ground where he once stood.

The Sylvan elves were seated above-head, hair swinging down as they watched the wretched Orcs freely roam upon their lands, spreading the darkness further like a flooding poison. Clenching his jaw tight, a low growl emenated from Legolas's throat as he glared at the enemies. How dare they purge and kill his people! These repugnant beasts would surely pay the price of death. As he opened his mouth to choke a revengeful retort, Thranduil beat him to it.

"Death to the foes of the Elves. May light flare and may darkness flee." he voiced strongly. As his followers nodded in respect, they all lightly fell to the barren earth, boots making contact with a soft thump. "A lelyalme. Wield your swords, _now_."

At the sudden sight of their enemies, the fell beasts were momentarily astonished. Caught unaware, the orcs snarled in pure confusion and rage, determinedly scrambling for a suitable position to outflank the small elves. Seething with unidentifiable dark speech, the orcs communicated with each other, deciding the best actions to assault.

Legolas and his kin sprung effortlessly forward, fluently brandishing their delicate weapons, preparing to slaughter the whole group with ease.

The prince sprinted forward and drew his bowstring, letting a thin arrow sing melodically, boring into the vile head of the first orc that neared. The creature gave one last lifeless groan, before crumpling to the ground.

One fallen, several more to be slayed.

A dangerous glint appeared unto Legolas's face. A delicious thrilling sensation crept upwards along the prince's spine. This was like a game. A game of valiance and the loser, death would befall him. The adrenaline rushed through his warrior body as three menacing orcs attempted to besiege him. How foolish to think their skill could surpass his.

He whipped around, arms agilely slashing and sparring with all three weapons that all at once. The orcs snarled decisively with animosity but staggered backwards as each of their treacherous weapons rebounded.

Their throated gnarls were cut off instantly, as the elf shot them a triumphant leer and a second later Legolas gyrated easily on his heels. He switched fluently to his elven daggers and sliced all three of the orcs' horrid heads in one motion. Tilting his head with certainty, he turned to see how his father was faring.

Thranduil was absolutely mesmerizing in battle. His skill was indeed as fair as Legolas's yet he was more experienced. As the orcs attempted to move, Thranduil was three steps ahead, fencing his elongated sword with such grace.

Legolas could only look on with awe as he watched the enemies of his kin demolished under the king's sword.

"Legolas. I know how fond you are of watching me fight, but I believe I commanded you to attack as well," Thranduil panted between parries, twisting his body to the left and right. "Don't be lazy." he added, a smirk marking his smooth face.

"Do you have the need of saving, my King?" Legolas replied sarcastically, impaling an orc that had snuck behind the king's back with a deadly tipped arrow from his quiver.

"Never fear, Ionneg, you are by my side. I know how much safer you feel with me." Thranduil retorted, his eyebrows raised in mirth. Legolas would have scoffed, but he was occupied with another tenacious Orc.

Back to back, the King and Prince of Mirkwood fought valiantly, never missing a beat, their synchronized blazing dance annihilating all who dared to oppose them. Stretching his arms, Legolas fired arrow after arrow, the repeating pattern targeting with such precise, whilst Thranduil flaunted his steel blades with the same deadly accuracy.

The orcs bared their teeth in defiance, but the elves did not miss the flash of uncertainty that appeared on their terrible dark faces.

With few left, the elite group paused to catch their breath, still cautiously eyeing the remaining towering beasts who had also delayed their advance.

"My lord-" The two guards by Thranduil's side began.

Suddenly their breath hitched and a loud thump was heard.

Turning swiftly, Thranduil and Legolas directed their weapons where the sound was heard, but they were much too late. The guards had fallen, lethal Orc arrows protruding from their chests.

Legolas, rooted to the earthy ground, scoured the forest uneasily. Where had that arrow appeared from? The Orcs they were currently fighting did not fire. So who did?

Turning to scour the forest, realization dawned as he glimpsed the scarred face of the Orc leader. The creature was a little far off but still making his way to where the royal family stood bewildered.

Legolas shouted a warning to the Mirkwood King. "Alas! There are more beasts approaching!"

Thranduil clenched the hilts of his weapons and gasped. He could barely contain a silent yell as a distracted Legolas missed the incoming arrow from the current orc he was sparring with.

The crossbow was aimed directly at the prince's exposed back!

Knowing Legolas could not evade the shot in time, Thranduil decided to protect the one thing he could not protect before. Whirling to indignantly push Legolas away, he expertly wielded his twin swords and brought them harshly down, splinting the barbed arrow in half. "Orc filth." he said confidently, head held high. His darkened eyebrows suddenly raised as a low cackle erupted from the Orc archer.

"Have you forgotten something, my lord? I am not the only archer here...Not anymore, in the least." The vile creature spat, sly sneer plastered on his ugly face.

Legolas, momentarily winded from his father's act, raised his bow lightning quick. As he focused on the one who had aimed to kill him, he suddenly realized he had forgotten about the new orc group that was heading towards them. The incoming Orc leader sneered wickedly, barbaric crossbow raised strongly.

"Ai!" Legolas knew he had run out of time to fire, and calmly accepted his fate..."Adar! Flee at once!"

Thranduil, head cocked at the orcs' sudden statement, reeled around in understanding. Legolas! He heard the soft warning from his son's lips and instinctively met his son's cerulean eyes, a loving glimpse exchanged.

Thranduil then unexpectantly lunged swiftly in front of his son, weapons half-raised, attempting to shield him from the deadly act that threatened to follow.

Legolas stood, shocked at his father's action.

He watched it absolute horror as the orc's arrow savagely buried itself into Thranduil's left shoulder...

Eyes widening at the instant pain that exploded from his silver clothed shoulder, Thranduil's cool face gave no weakened sign of his predicament as he shakily tried to staunch his blossoming wound.

Relief flooded his features as he realized that he had been penetrated and not his son. And was Legolas safe?

As his hands progressively soaked with blood; he soundlessly collapsed to his knees, head bowed in repugnance, his crimson-splashed robe splayed around. How did this come to be? He blankly stared down at the embedded arrow closely above his heart, mouth halfway parted in shock. His sterling crown fell mutely off his head, hair fluidly covering his disoriented eyes.

Legolas cursed silently at his father who had taken the shot that was meant for him. His words turned to nothingness, shocked. This time, he furiously stood in front of the injured king, ready should more arrows follow.

Glancing quickly behind, he worriedly speculated how serious his father's laceration could be.

"Ionneg." Thranduil looked away gritting his teeth, his glassy-eyes increasingly hazy at the continuous amount of blood lost. "Av-'osto. It is an order to extinguish them all. Leave me and kill them..." Thranduil panted heavily, his too pale face losing more color, turning as white as the frozen winter.

"Nay. I will never leave you, but I will still destroy them Adar." He spoke louder, "These foul orcs dare not move closer to me for fear I might kill them all."

The stupid Orcs could not take the mocking insult and roared ear-splittingly as dozens charged at the remaining noble elves.

Rhogdul snorted as his troupe rushed forward with such hatred. In his black native speech, the Orc leader bared his decayed teeth into a wicked grin and growled at his followers. "Kill them both. They will die for our loss at Erebor; our ill-news mean death. The dark lord would no doubt destroy us." He licked his blood painted sword, the bloodlust driving him mad.

He sneered at the stricken Woodland King who now lay gasping for breath, his fair hands grasping the leafy earth under him. The Elvenking was weakly holding himself up, for fear of collapsing further.

Rhogdul's enthusiasm was cut off however as one fair-skinned warrior blocked his view. The elf''s face was pure loathing with revenge, startling the Orc somewhat as a stunning glare shot through his black twisted heart. The elf stood properly, lips pursed into a dark frown, two fancy blades gleaming dangerously in the fading light.

The Prince of Mirkwood.

Flashing glares and trembling with hate, Legolas elegantly spiraled his swords, shielding his injured king. The Orcs quickly outnumbered and surrounded the single willowy elf, their battle cries echoing clearly through the dark forest...

**oOo**

Lord Elrond jerked up suddenly, sending his silky covers messily to the dusty floor. Trembling with cold sweat, he closed his eyes, bringing his hand to his brow. Aye Valar, why must things never go as expected in Arda?

Shaking away the effects of his foresight, he trembled with anxiety. He threw his usual teal robe over his grey night tunic and sprinted down Rivendell's halls, shouting aloud as he did so.

"The Lords of Mirkwood are troubled! Gather the usual patrols to assist me in my journey to the Woodland Realm at once!" He tackled his golden gleaming armour outfit, slipping it over himself whilst heading towards Rivendell's stables.

"Ada? I don't understand, what is going on?" Estel suddenly appeared out of nowhere, making Elrond jump in instant surprise.

"Legolas and Thranduil are in need of aid ion-nin. If we don't find them before evening nightfall they are dead." He sighed. "I can send you off to bed still, but sadly I know you will not obey. Am I correct?"

Estel's flabbergasted face as he had mentioned Legolas, confirmed Elrond that Estel would not listen.

"Ada! I have a strong desire to go! You will not forbid me this time!"

"Annon I *dhawen angin." Lord Elrond whispered. Arguing only took away time.

"Really?" Estel stiffened, not believing the words that had come from his Adar's mouth.

Lord Elrond rolled his eyes to the nighttime sky, sighing at the delay. "You heard me correctly. I give you permission to come Aragorn but make haste! We have little time!"

Mounting his usual chestnut colored steed, he pulled Estel swiftly up behind him, giving the child his small handcrafted elven armour he had brought beforehand. "You must promise me you will not do anything rash."

"I won't Ada!" Estel enthusiastically replied a little too quickly. He was overjoyed with the thought that he could see his friend again! He silently pleaded to Valar that Legolas was not hurt.

The vast plain that separated them, a barrier, could be the difference between life and death...

_I've waited for this moment_

_Feel the earth erupt and then_

_Feel my heart break again_

_For this is the end_

_Our spirit may never mend_

_O'er our woods we must defend_

_We will stand tall, the fight we tend_

_But to be saved it will all depend_

_On that one friend..._

Ndengina ta - kill it

Alelyame - Let's go

Av'osto - Do not be afraid

Annon I *dhawen angin - I give you permission

***Cackles evilly. What have I done to them?! Thanks for reading! Hope you liked as I enjoyed making this chapter!**

**xxxDefyingDeathxxx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Slightly shorter but still important! Been busy with school but here you are! A little taste of angst for you angst lovers. :P**

**Chapter 14: Broken in More Ways Than One**

The birds fled. The sun fled. And the Prince of the Woodland stood dauntlessly, his soul ablaze with the desire of vengeance.

Legolas's vision clouded with anger whilst chaging his stance into the defensive, viewing the fresh group of Orc warriors racing toward him. Shock had all but withered away, time working against them, the Orc's game beggining. It started with that sudden advance, that vile choas erupting by his watchful eye. And it would end.

In both regards, escaping unscathed was folly.

**oOo**

The King of Mirkwood was in distraught, more concerned for his son than the arrow fixed severely into his shoulder. His elven blood trickled faster and faster down, whilst his other supporting arm trembled occasionally under his weight.

He barely had enough strength to glance up at his unyielding son. He lifted his head slightly but could not restrain a miserable moan due to the excessive pain. By the sea and stars, it was as if his shoulder was burning from the inside out, the flames spreading lethally throughout the rest of his body, licking his blood.

Poison no doubt was at work, sapping his vitality away. He withheld a choke as he felt blood trickle down the corner of his subtle lips.

"Legolas. Look at me, ionneg."

Astonished beyod measure, Legolas locked eye contact with the king's immediately, a silent message of understanding exchanged. "Nay. I forbid you to speak. Whatever you do, do not remove the arrow thyself." the prince hurriedly whispered, forgetting his place and now giving the orders.

The King gave a sullen smile, eyes downcast at the coarse earth. The brambles stung his fair hands, leaving thin scratches upon his smooth fingers. "You forget who you are speaking with." he rasped.

Legolas had no more time for speech. His disquieted face turned decisive with sweet revenge to kill he who had shot his father; the heinous Orc leader. Attaching his bow deftly to his back, he immediately fell to his knees and tucked his arms in, spiraling to evade an attack.

A second later, an Orc ruthlessly brought his axe down onto the spot Legolas had been standing earlier. The prince glowered, rage increasing his agility and power immensely. This was no ordinary battle. He was fighting for his Adar's life. And perhaps though he did not want to think about it...his as well.

As Rhogdul quietly observed the elf dancing with unimaginable fury, he could not help the snarl that breeched his mouth. His orcs were much too slow in the midst of the prince, his tactics perfectly in sync and lightning quick. He observed his fair enemy whirling his blades in front of his father, cleanly slicing all who approached. Rhogdul snorted. They need not kill them...yet.

Prowling along the outskirts of the skirmish, the Orc leader crept. "This is the final time I fail on Sauron's behalf." Rhogdul growled and decided to bring them to the end of the battle, his dead Orcs too many to count. He roared into the sky, the direct order emanating like thunder.

The outcome was made clear.

Stunned, Legolas lowered his bow a fraction. What to do now? Glancing at his downed father sending weak glares at the fiends, he knew things would not turn out a right, no matter the situation. What of Mirkwood's palace? What of Rivendell? Were there no one to come to their aid?

His thoughts were instantly vanquished as a horrid wolf-like creature made its appearance with a sinister low growl. Yet this was no mere wolf. The scarred face and immense body covered in bristly hair gave this pet of Sauron a frightening appearance.

Valar, do you wish for me to be killed? Legolas's features fretfully slackened as several more beasts padded lightly over the brush, their fangs gleaming with such ferocity. He heard Thranduil grunt in surprise as well, his able arm tightly gripping the hilt of one of his swords.

"We must fight together. We have no choice," Thranduil coolly gasped, wiping his bloodstained mouth with his sterling sleeve. He forced his closed eyelids to open and gave Legolas a fierce commanding glare that said if he didn't comply, he would kill the prince himself.

Legolas would have laughed at the king's strange expression if the situation were not so serious nor dangerous. "Do not push thyself."

Thranduil staggered as a twin of pain flooded his sense, but he nevertheless resumed cautiously eyeing the foes encircling them. To survive, was absoluetly necessary. Never was the day, when he had thought his state would be reduced this low.

**oOo**

As one Warg leapt forward, Legolas's arrow sung. With a roar of defiance, the furred creature used the last of its strength to hurl the Orc on its back forward. The Orc flew, snarling with its deadly axe raised in the air but was cut cleanly in half; Thranduil panted heavily as he retracted his blade and fell back.

Leaping, Legolas turned away from his father to end the few beasts that lingered. Unanticipatedly he heard a low grunt of disbelief from behind. Twisting his head, the prince was glad he did...

The king was fighting mercilessly, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his blade matched Rhogdul's thorned sword. "You will yearn for the shadows, icy one," the Orc taunted. Thranduil gritted his teeth, his pale hands slowly wavering and and losing grip.

Sensing victory, the Orc leader snarled triumphantly, face to face with the cavalier King. "My orders never specified to kill you now my lord." And with a savage growl, his clenched fist skillfully met with Thranduil's penetrated shoulder with a sickening "thwack."

The King of Mirkwood gave a low gasp of surprise, his mouth halfway open, eyes blank with bewilderment. All breath was sucked out of lungs, burning from the instant lack of oxegyn. He moaned in instant agony, the flooding affliction stopping his actions.

And he faltered. The shaft embedded in himself snapped cruelly, the action sending his lithe body into a quick jerk. He felt himself stumble backwards and tried to maintain his usual balance. His hands shakily pried the rest of the splintered pieces from his shoulder, earning a wince of pain from the elf.

"You will suffer my King, in every way we know how," Rhogdul sneered viciously, roughly twisting the king's head in Legolas's direction.

Thranduil closed his eyes, understanding exactly what the orc meant. He did not want to see the one thing he held so dear to suffer for his own actions.

Legolas's eyes widened with shock as he silently witnessed his father beaten ruthlessly. Ignoring all else, he rushed to the aid of his King. "Adar! Make no move!" His eyes flooded with tears as he watched his father gracefully plunge to the earth, his magnificent silver robe now dyed ruby.

The King lay still, his ragged breathing faint and his splashed decorated sword sprawled beside him. The green brush beneath gave way to the new pool of scarlet that flowed increasingly, like a rushing river.

However, Thranduil still had the strength to weakly warn his son, "Come no closer. Rima ten'ta!"

Legolas payed no heed to his king. A blinding rage consumed him as he thrust himself recklessly at the Orc leader. "The bones of my enemies shall glow in the moonlight!"

Rhogdul sneered, baring his decayed teeth into a triumphant grin. "The Prince of Mirkwood," he scowled. "Bind them both." He nodded to three of his bulky toughest orcs, their beastly faces leering at the prince that hovered protectively over his fallen father. They would serve as payment to Sauron for the orcs mistake, dying in their place. But that didn't mean they wouldn't serve as enjoyment. The orcs' bloodlust was growing steadily as their hatred grew for the perfect elves with unblemished features.

"You shall touch him no longer," Legolas seethed. His once cool face was presently lit ablaze with anger. He raised his bow, but being outnumbered, an Orc beat him to his attack. Legolas could do nothing as he silently watched his beloved bow snap sharply in half by an arrow, the wooden remnants tumbling gracelessly to the ground. The Prince stood still, watching the precious gift from his father splinter against the ground.

Snapping out of it, he glared furiously. How dare they?! If he was going to be bound, he would not go without a lasting fight.

However, as the elf struggled, he had not time to mount a defense before a crushing force crashed into his chest, and he tumbled into the dirt, clouds of dust swirling around his face.

"You are weak," the Orc jeered gleefully.

_Defeat_. There was no word in the prince's elvish tongue. Neither was weakness. He had never before felt the need for the insult. Now however, he could not take his eyes off his father's helpless expression looking back at him with such deep concern. No doubt the king was dissapointed in his skill. Legolas feebly reached out to him, the same gesture he had done upon departing Erebor. Light tears built in the prince's cerulean eyes.

Suddenly, his entire nervous system erupted into a fit of agonizing shock as his arm exploded in pain. _What now?! _His mind could not register where the attack was originating until the culprit growled feral in his face. A Warg clutched his arm mercilessly, its razor-sharp teeth brutally digging into the arm part of his warrior tunic.

Legolas's determined face fell; he was being dragged. His body went still, his arm hanging limply in the jaws of the foul beast that was dragging him indignantly away from his father. Deeper into the cruel woods he had come to know as home.

Legolas, hope dwindling, knew the future events that would occur, long before it would happen. Still, the thought of what they might do to him brought a chilling panic and curldled his blood.

Rhogdul smirked at the noble elf, as his troupe bound the prince's arms above his head around the trunk of a wicked tree, crushing his porcelain face against it. The orcs roared smugly, ripping both of the elf's heavy garments off of his body like shredding paper, exposing the flawless fair skin beneath. Oh how that smooth skin longed to be torn, etched with beautiful designs of his animosity and rage. Thorny whip glinting horrendously in the fading light, the Orc leader smiled wickedly and raised it above his head, waiting for the elf to realize the state he was in, that all hope was futile. He would break him.

"The King of the Woodland Realm shall pay for our loss!" Rhogdul roared, grinning sickly at his work.

And with that, the whip cracked powerfully, echoing ruthlessly through Mirkwood as it made direct contact with bare flesh. Legolas grunted at the sharp sting, his lithe body jerking against his restraints, instantly clenching his fair hands.

_Death, please, why do you torture me so?! _he pleaded between the exploding pain_._

It tore his soft skin apart, the thorned tip wrenching free from his back, biting intensely.

_Damn myself and my weakness! _

Fire. Heat. The swiftest lashes made of the tightest, most violent of rage. Pain had become so common, that his body had all but sentisized to it and grew numb. Oh, how he was done with it all!

It consumed him, corrupted him, twisted and ripped his heart into a timeless path of lacerations. Legolas had to bite harshly down on his lip to prevent a shameful scream of blinding agony, but could not withhold the light grunts as each blow rained down from above. Tasting blood, he cringed yet again. His heart pounded rapidly against his chest, shattering all feelings into tiny fragments.

All he saw was the flickering of darkness, luring him into unconsciousness. Back mutilated to pieces, Legolas's body reacted without his mentality, collapsing slowly into submission. He no longer felt the pain. He only welcomed the dark like an old friend, the only thing that comforted him. As his eyesight grew hazy, threatening to close, he remembered the one thing that mattered: he had failed his father... "_Adar!_"

**oOo**

Thranduil, eyes shut, could not help the incoming blush of shame that flooded his face as the orcs bound his hands roughly and indignantly behind his back. He tried to hold his head up properly but failed miserably as the slightest movement caused searing pain throughout his arm. He ground his teeth together in silent fury.

What was that noise? His elven ears twitched anxiously until the king heard a startling crack. A whip? The cracked voice that followed was filled with panic, terror and defeat?

The sound infested his mind. "Legolas." he whispered. The King of Mirkwood immediately understood and closed his eyes once more, body shivering immensely from the receding ache in his shoulder. And no more than a second later, did the sad sound echo again, flowing throughout the dark bowels of the forest.

A wave of cold terror gnawed in the pit of his stomach, his mind racing.

Valor no; the one thing he could not nor ever protect. His hands, usually so steady to the point of arrogance, were now shaking with rage. "Nadorhuan rim!" The Elvenking exploded in a terible wrath, unable to do naught, blood boiling in rage. Gaining a blow to his head as response, Thranduil growled, terror filling his heart, drowning it, drowning it all out.

_Think! _The king immediately wished, but he could not, all reason extracted from him. _You_ _know_ _his_ _stealth_ _and_ _skill; he's a capable warrior_...

But nay. The lies swallowed his pitiful state, crushing him mercilessly. As the swelling tears threatened to flow at his own ignorance, Thranduil stopped himself. It shattered his heart not to release his anguish, but his enemies enjoyed the grief-stricken pain and sick games of weakness. Like a bird to prey, they would immediately surround him, drawn to the grief of his broken state.

Against his will, one tear snaked its way down the side of his somber face. Only one thought entered his throbbing head: he had failed his son.

The woods grew still again, masked with false serenity that brought goosebumps and fear to the king's heart...

Rima ten'ta - Run for it

Nadorhuan rim - Cowardly dogsi

**Phew! Done. Moving on...thx for sticking with me! :D For the next chapter I am introducing a character I have mentioned before.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Haven't updated in quite a while so sorry if it's a little lengthy! Prepare yourselves. Still hope you like! :D**

**Chapter 15: Haunting Embers**

_"Look Ada! I painted a picture based on the tales Nana told me about Dwarves!" The small elfling eagerly raised his portrait, blue eyes wide with anticipation and pride. No response came from the emotionless King as he gazed down unseeing at his son. _

_"A-Ada? Nana wouldn't want thee to be unhappy so I made this! She loves you!" Legolas tried again. _

_The sudden death of his mother hadn't completely registered in the young prince's mind yet. Elves didn't die. Weren't they were immortal?_

_"The world is a dark and hopless place, Legolas Thranduilion." The Elvenking turned his head to the side, eyes closed in concentration and grief._

_Legolas gasped quietly as the King mentioned his full name, and stepped back several paces. His father had never used his full name in such a harsh tone. Where was the 'ion-non' he had been called since he could remember; the sound like flowing honey whenever he spoke? _

_"Legacies are not meant to be shared in pictures nor Dwaves nor glad tidings." He gave the elfling a severe glare and revealed a bow of beautiful design from underneath his crimson robe. "As a prince you must value this weapon as your life. Nothing else will ever protect you. **Nothing**." _

_Half-heartedly, Legolas grasped the bow in both his hands, running his fingers over the flawless engravings. "Elo! I thank thee for thy gratitude." He beamed up at his father but Thranduil did not meet his eyes, more focused on displaying the crown fixed proudly atop his perfect hair. Legolas sighed sadly, trying not to cry. He missed the fleeting pain that flashed upon the King's face._

_"You will do well to remember you are and will always be the only heir to my throne. Do not fail me as a prince." Thranduil padded away to conceal the guilt behind his eyes, robe swishing like a snake slithering away. _

_Legolas stood shocked at first, confused at the large vocabulary. He however knew for a fact that his fathers attitude had changed. Tears swelled and the elfling sniffled, decorated bow in hand. It wasn't his fault his mother was dead! Where were the warm comforting arms that had always been offered instead of weapons? His nana had told him that lives should be spared not taken. Instead, he dropped to all fours and wept, silk hair grazing the ground._

_Thranduil, leaning against a hall, heard every cry, every sob his Greenleaf let loose. His eyes brimmed with tears but instead, he silently walked away, locking all memories behind closed doors. "I know nothing of love. It is only a mask...deceit." _

_The painting left in the throne room drifted far away, carried outdoors by the breeze..._

_Little did they know that it was fetched by a small red haired Sylvan elfling who had unknowingly eavesdropped. Tucking it away, it was treasured, not forgotten._

**oOo**

Legolas's heavy eyelids fluttered open, tears falling past his lips. The reminding jolts of pain that flourished from his back forced him awake. Still roughly tied to the tree, the bark scathed his mutilated back further. The rope holding him bit cruelly into his chest, drawing blood like a bleeding lake. Creaking, the crooked branches swayed as if beckoning the festering evil. Oh, how he adored the wood before now.

He shivered as a faint breeze stung his exposed skin. His tunics were taken, purpose extremely clear. Lips horribly chapped and raw, he could make no sound, no matter how much effort he put into the act. His aching head was pounding repeatedly as if dwarf armies were clanging axes against the sides of his skull. Could anything be worse than this? The frantic elf searched the woodland for any sight of life; for his Adar.

Viewing naught but the empty glade, the Mirkwood Prince began to fight the reality; the horrifying thoughts that caused him to flinch. That the Elf King lay in the clutches of the Orc leader _alone_.

Legolas wondered if the orcs had fled but a smug snarl from behind confirmed that the nightmare was not at end. Mustering as much vitality to lift his head in defiance, he cringed. Aye Valar, do not claim me so soon. It is far too early to greet thee in the Grey Havens...

**oOo**

Meanwhile, the Elvenking inhaled short breaths, trying to obtain oxygen without rousing his injury. His back was uncomfortably propped against a stone, son nowhere to be found. Pale face lost even more coulour as he hopelessly calculated his options upon glimpsing the Orc leader. The sun had abandoned all. Every sign of life diminished and a chill ran down the base of his spine.

"The Prince of the Woodland Realm is _dead_," Rhogdul sneered, enunciating heavily on the word that brought sheer terror to the king's unseeing vile leader circled the fallen King, grotesque blade waving. He observed the fire in those pure eyes dwindle and exstinguish, left vacant with confusion.

Thranduil immediately summoned his elvish instincts, grunting at the rushing dizziness. His head was spinning uncontrollably, vision blurring with a variety of mixed colours. Green, brown, black; the vivid colors of memories mixed with darkness. But death was not an option.

Rhogdul towered over him, snarling triumphantly and threw the prince's bloodstained clothing near Thranduil's feet.

The King's cold eyes switched, his striking features growing darker with rage and his mouth pursed into a scowl. "I do believe we can cease the sick games you are attempting. I trust my senses, so forgive me that I believe he is not," he answered coolly and tilted his head.

Curse the elf! Rhogdul's sneer dissipated and he exploded ferociously at the brazenness that had ruined his entertainment. He snarled and swung hard at the king, but was much too slow for the elf's quick reflexes.

However, as Thranduil evaded, a sharp flare of pain hindered his ability. Eyes widened with surprise as the Orc's foul hand skimmed his flawless face, leaving a thin gash. Blood lightly trickled down the side of his pale face where he was struck.

Further mobility vanished as Rhogdul yanked the tall king to his feet, bringing the flawless elf closer to his own grotesque face. He savagely traced Thranduil's overflowing wound with a gnarled finger, trying to gain a better reaction than a wince. When the distant elf did nothing but glower, a deep rumble grew in his throat with frustration. He raised a clenched fist, ready to smash the elf's pretty head open.

A flash of green and red among the brush however, caught Thranduil's eye. The Woodland King smirked with victory, alive with wrath.

"Amin delotha lle..."

Rhogdul could not release the withheld gnarl of shock as two daggers cleanly stabbed him from behind. Looking down at the blades protruding from his stomach, he rasped against the rising fluid. With the last of his surprisd breath, he cursed, eyes narowed in hatred. "These woods will forever manifest with evil for it will only grow once the inferno of Mordor spreads. You think Erebor was the final-"

"I am aware thank you and I care not," Thranduil curled his lip, answering in a bored tone. In reality however, his mind raced with clawing fear at the strong statement.

Suddenly with one nimble motion, the dying Orc was sliced cleanly in half. The leader was dead before he hit the ground, revealing a red-haired elf standing proudly behind. "You care not," she mirrored.

The blood splattered King scowled and fell to his knees once more, clutching his roused wound. He wondered whether to punish Tauriel or take her unexpected appearance for granted. He decided he would do both. "Tauriel. I believe I had exiled you—"

"Aye but I refused to surrender to your relentless attitude," Tauriel finished. She walked toward the kneeling king whilst sheathing her blades.

"It would be wise to move little," Tauriel murmured, reading his actions. No doubt if the King had enough strength he would lunge violently at her. "Ah! I found this!" Tauriel flamboyantly displayed the king's silver headpiece. Thranduil sighed and weakly snatched it from her, putting it above his head where it belonged.

Tauriel grinned and couldn't resist the urge to tease her former ruler. "Tis a most splendid meeting your majesty," she bowed. "I believe my presence should be appreciated. I have contacted Mirkwood's finest gaurds and they shall arrive soon for you were in need of saving." She gently offered a hand but was turned down as icy daggers shot her way.

"Do not dare to lay a hand upon me, _traitor_," Thranduil spat. He instantly regretted the words as a jolt of pain shot through his arm like a strike of lightning. "You are lucky I chose to spare thee. Legolas would...not react well," he seethed through clenched teeth.

Tauriel smiled glumly at the statement. "I have missed you too, my lord." She stopped. "...Legolas?"

Immediately, Thranduil's manner shifted drastically. His severe mask slipped for a second and in that brief time, Tauriel noticed his gaze completely lose their sharp glint, revealing dismay? Perhaps the King held deep feelings after all for his son. Tauriel sighed sadly, as rushing memories of the king's cold demeanor played back.

For it was much too late to change the past.

**oOo**

The woods drowned under the expanding darkness of evil; a greater sickness. The elf prince heard every taunt, curse, and filth that poured from the Orcs' jeering laughter.

"This is the valiant Prince of Mirkwood?"–a harsh jab from an Orcs' dulled weapon.

"All who oppose Sauron, will have their blood water the ground."–a sudden yank of the elf's silvery hair.

"Once Rhogdul tortures and handles the ruler of the woodland we have no use for this delicious sprite," an Orc sickly smiled as he caressed Legolas's cheek, the foul touch causing the elf to grit his teeth in disbelief. His stomach turned over multiple times with disgust.

Worse though, he knew of the terrible hatred the Orcs carried for his beautiful and fair elf cousins.

He however did nothing physically to resist their taunts. He merely struggled within his broken mind; with his lack of skill, with his arrogant behavior, and with the thought he had started this. _And the friendly trees that concealed him from harm as an elfling?_ No response came from the murky forest and his heart descended into the icy depths of betrayal. Panic gnawed at his insides, cold terror washing over him.

His torturers slashed his bounds and as if in slow motion, Legolas toppled gracelesslly, legs functioning like stone. He fell. He fell. The words echoed over and over, hurting him more than anything.

Letting gravity take him this time, he plunged deftly to the ground. He immediately sensed what would come next and he wished he hadn't.

Legolas hissed with irritation and curled up protectively as the Orcs repeatedly beat him, mocking him with cruel taunts and insults in theor native tongue. The hits vigorously rained down on him like hail, and he closed his eyes, willing the orcs to halt their brutality.

He lost count.

He could think of nothing except the flooding agony the monsters caused. The pain of new injuries became unbearable and with each blow he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

Once they grew tired of their amusement, the vile beasts chuckled nastily at their indents and stalked off for whatever reason their cruel insticts desied.

This left Legolas in his misery to stroke and tend to the bruisings they had inflicted on himself. His battered body felt cold; cold as if he were carved from ice and then shattered.

In loneliness the elf prince waited for anything, lying rigidly on his side and breathing heavily, abandoning his pride. The rusty musk of dirt clung to his clothing and skin, in place of his usual fresh instead of feeling nothing, his heart ached for longing: for relief.

Estel. Thranduil. Blank eyes fixed on the night, he accepted the ancient gloom that enveloped him, usual glow growing dim.

_Silent like the settled night_

_A lonely star in the dusk_

_A weeping heart _

_The trees cast ill shadows_

_A tattered soul disoriented_

_In deep darkness buried_

_Forgive me that my apologies cannot reach you_

_Me and all I stood for _

_We're wandering now_

_All in broken pieces _

_Left to find our own way _

_As the somber hours glide by_

_Although I listen_

_Only the the place of empty echoes_

_For the small birds no longer linger _

_Alas small hope remains_

_In my time of need_

_For above all shadows lies the sky_

_Where father mentioned once _

_That stars always dwell..._

"_Legolas_!" A cold voice rung clearly throughout the glade, harsh and commanding even.

"..."

Exhausted, Legolas weakly rose, not wanting his father to disapprove of his low status. Both their eyes locked at once. Were there tears in the King's eyes or fresh dewdrops of mist? Was Thranduil striding faster than normal or were his eyes playing tricks? No doubt his father was disappointed in his failed warrior skill. He limply bowed his head and tried his best to cover up his lacerated back with his arms.

The Prince let out a huge gasp as he was suddenly taken into a light embrace. His eyes widened in astonishment, for this was no ordinary hug. It was an act with pure desperation and full emotion; a huge display of affection. Legolas blinked, clearly uneasy.

"Lle anta Amin tu?" Thranduil pressed.

I-I am well Adar," Legolas answered. How could this elf be his father?

"Do not lie to me," the Elvenking chastened in a harsh voice. Thranduil entwined his son's slender fingers into his own, burying his face into his hair and inhaling his son's faded earthy fresh scent. He was at loss for words. Despite his own hurting, he let his body talk for him. Legolas allowed the King to calmly graze his lashed back, shivering as the pain intensified with every light touch. Too exhausted to focus on what was currently happening within the rest of the Arda, he stood unmoving. Trembling, he looked away in shame.

"I believe this belongs to you." Thranduil handed both of Legolas's garments back to the prince, delicately helping him ease it on. He also gave the twin daggers Tauriel had retrieved as well. "Take better care of your weapons. Without them nothing will save you," the king smirked teasingly. He gained a small smile from the prince.

"Hîr vuin, your shoulder!" Legolas immediately winced at the horrendous sight. The blood was still blossoming from the Kings arm.

"It will be mended once this ordeal is over," Thranduil exhaled subtly, trying to save breath. He had forgotten about his wounds until now, the shock gone and leaving him panting heavily with lightheadedness. "Be silent." He clutched the elf prince closer to his body, for the stubborn Woodland King did not want this memory to slip ever again. Their royal blood mingled and mixed, dyeing them both like paint...

Legolas felt something warm stir within him and turned, but did not expect what was awaiting him. An Orc that was barreling closer had been abruptly decapitated. Stiffening with shock, Legolas stared astounded at what he had believed to be deceased. "N-no," his usual melodic voice cracked.

His gaze traveled up and down the beautiful elleth with maroon hair that was dancing to the battle. "T-Tauriel..."

Memories of Erebor overrid his hysterical mind, and his body erupted in an explosion of pain pulsating from his tattered soul. Was he going mad? He dropped to his knees, writhing in intense agony, muffling the groans by burying his face into a distraught Thranduil's arms.

"Ionneg, whatever is the matter?!" the King asked desperately. He received no answer from the exasperated elf who was trembling and groaning to the crying trees.

"My-heart," Legolas stuttered, the pain consuming his lithe body...

**oOo**

Tauriel's worried expression changed dangerously as the orcs approached, red locks fiercely displaying her passion for battle. "You think you can win, servants of the dark lord?" she taunted, flourishing her blades. There were too many and she knew it. What could one lowly Sylvan elf do against orcs on Wargs?

Suddenly, breaking the tension, the glowing Lord of Rivendell bolted out of the undergrowth, followed by Mirkwood guards. Elrond's golden armour glimmered brightly and bayed the darkness. "Hîr vuin, Odulen an edraith alen!"

Allies! At last! While the orcs were distracted, Tauriel plunged into the fight, blazing with silent fury. Ablaze with all the anguish of Mordor, she wanted to put an end to this horrible nightmare; an end to those who killed her love.

**oOo**

As Lord Elrond and Estel arrived at the scene, all worried expressions changed to those of pure loathing, glimpsing the downed elves. Elves would never abandon their pride to dark beings unless tortured. Even then, it was nearly impossible.

Estel could barely contain the whimper that escaped as he witnessed the devastation. What in all of Arda has happened?! Legolas was injured as suspected! Jumping from off the horse, he sprinted towards the two elites, foolishly ignoring the orcs racing towards them. "Legolas! mellon-nin! Please be alright!"

Lord Elrond stared in absolute shock as he wheeled around, helplessly viewing his son dive into the dangerous scene.

Estel! Legolas heard the cry and he pushed the excruciating pain aside to protect his endangered friend.

Thranduil watched horrified as his injured son sprinted toward the human; towards the midst of the fight. "Daro! Nay! Move no further!"

But Legolas did not care. His father was fine; Estel in deperate need of rescue. He gave the boy a reassuring grimace whilst shielding him with raised swords.

His poise was almost as scary as it was fascinating to behold. A wave of movement caught his attention and within a second of lure impulse, he weaved around Estel, taking down Orcs with his knives.

He was in the brink of fading away, but his determination kept him conscious. The battle encased him like strong desire. Fear spurred his energy and he let his battered body rush forward.

He would gladly give his life for Estel, for if this was the end, he would make it such an end. This small human had the ability to give others encouragement even in the darkest of times.

Estel.

Legolas smiled, ignoring the creeping numbness swallowing him inch by inch. _Hope_...

Elo - Wow

Amin delotha lle - I hate you

Lle anta Amin tu - Do you need help

Hir Vuin - My lord

Odulen an edraith alen - I have come to save you

Daro - Stop

**Wow that was very very very long. Hope it wasn't too much to handle. Thx everyone for reading! You're all awesome! I'm enjoying this all the way and hope you all are too! **


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks to those who gave me advice/comments. It gives me the extra push to finish writing. You know who you are ;) **

**Chapter 16: Regrets of Many**

Unsure whether to end the lives of the Woodland elves or the Rivendell elves, the Orcs concentrated on the two centered beings. Snarling, they charged, shattering the tranquillity with their thundering footsteps.

Stomping. Louder. So much closer now.

The two rulers could do absolutely naught for their sons, for they were too busy mounting a defense against the beastly creatures that drew near. Back-to-back, the royals whacked here and there, their long swords sparring with Warg teeth.

Legolas pushed the taunting dark away with quite difficulty. He knew he had to shield his defenseless friend, the adrenaline of battle keeping him on his feet. "Get behind me," he breathed to a petrified Estel. He stumbled forward, features taut with fury, willing himself not to lose consciousness. His limbs slackened and the blood rushed to his head, feeling as though he were floating high above reality, his actions not his own, but a completely different warrior.

In that split-second distraction, an Orc managed to hurl its club down harshly. Its target: Estel.

A sickening crack was heard above the battle and the prince gasped as pain exploded throughout his entire nervous system. He had not anticipated this much pain! Legolas grunted at the horrible realization and fell to his knees, right limb hanging limply. All thoughts were slowly slipping, hindered by the ire and heat of his emotions.

Estel whimpered from behind as his friend risked himself, taking the blow that was meant to kill him. But what to do now?!

Legolas backed away slowly, trying desperately to retain his composure, keeping the child close, attepting to destroy any who neared. He could feel the last ounce of his strength wane and a cold terror gripped his heart. Hissing in irritation, he shut his eyes, preparing for the final strike to end his miserable life.

Fortunately, Tauriel had witnessed the scene and she swept through the battlefield in one graceful strike, slicing the Orc cornering the two.

"Need assistance Legolas?" She checked her companion, thanking the Valar that he merely broke his bone, nothing serious. The human boy behind however was frightened beyond measure, tugging at the prince's clothes in terror.

"You are safe." she heartened, cupping the child's cheeks softly. "I will take it from here." Uttering her parting words, she twirled to the side and locked arms with another tremendous Orc of great strength.

It was then that the fiery she-elf made a mistake; a deadly miscalculation. She danced, knives in sync with the orcs' but her strength was not enough to surpass the others. The Orc was much too immense against her thin frame.

Broken arm silencing him with shooting pain, Legolas could not warn Tauriel as the fould beast evaded and located an opening within clear range. No! This could not be happening!

The Prince could only watch in stunned silence as Tauriel failed to dodge the orcs' weapon. Legolas's horrified choke was caught in his throat and his hands clenched at his sides.

An ear-shattering shriek penetrated the glade, startling all elves and enemies in combat. Immediately, everything stilled.

The redhead was brutally pierced by the Orc's dagger above her right breast. Clutching her chest, Tauriel doubled over, trying desperately to staunch the gushing wound as if her thin fingers could heal the lethal stab. Her pale hands were instantly overrun with slick crimson, staining her green tunic. She staggered backwards, throwing her head back as if in disbelief and collapsed. Legolas would have not thought the elleth to live if not for the slight heave of her stomach.

The Orc advanced to end her, but was impaled by a grief-stricken Lord Elrond.

Realizing their huge disadvantage, the remaining vile beasts scattered into the dark, dissapearing under the blanket of night, retreating to their master. However, their black speech lingered and growls of revenge echoed, indefinitely leaving their mark behind.

Wasting no time, the prince casted aside the boy who blocked his path, his feet leading him to the one thing he cared so deeply for. But his sprint was in vain. Instead he was shot through the heart.

His friend, love, was lifeless against the earth, hazy eyes staring into the sky.

"_Tauriel_!" Legolas rushed towards the fallen elleth, pulling her closer to his thundering chest. He ran his hands up and down her too bleached face. Nay! This was not so! A dream-anything but this!

His throat was corked shut, unable to summon audible words. "You are not dying." he whispered, trying to comfort the heaving warrior. He breathed soft elvish prayers as he lay her head limply in the crook of his good arm, humming a chidish tune she had once taught him, sweet and short. But eloquence had failed, the sound like a consistent cracking note.

"Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva," he whispered instead. A silent tear dripped down the corner of his eye. "Like we had spent many eves ago as elflings."

Tauriel gagged and tried her best to cover up the blood that snuck up her throat by swallowing hard, the faint taste of metal burning her tongue. "Mellonamin, do not fear for me."

A pause. It felt like an eternity.

"Death is just another path everyone must take. Nothing more. I could have died a year from now, many years hence, and yet my spirit would not find peace." She looked up at the starless sky, eyesight blearing with woe.

Her heart fluttered rapidly in her chest like a flitting butterfly, wishing with all her existence to be set free. Legolas gently squeezed her hand, black waters dragging him down, drowning him in chilled fear. Her hand was slowly losing warmth, the life diminishing like the moon did at the end of the night.

Losing her feelings of her body, the faint yet strong touch reminded Tauriel what she would be leaving behind. "I loved to see your face shine when you laughed before. Do not block out the earth mellon. Not again." She panted through heavy sputters.

Legolas could only swallow his grief.

"Fair winds. You are a skillful warrior." Thranduil broke the silence. He did not meet Tauriel's dulling glazed eyes. "I was mistaken. What you felt for that dwarf was real. It was and always will be."

Tauriel turned her head slowly towards the vague phrase. Her eyes widened. The King of Mirkwood admitting to a mistake? Tauriel smiled weakly with mirth, softening as she caught his meaningful stare. "Your sparing me for this moment was most wise...my King." Thranduil bowed his head, hand gestured over heart in respect.

Legolas's gripped the fallen elleth tighter, desperately running his fingers over her wound. Her body was tainted the same colour as her hair. She was beautiful. The rigged rise and fall of her chest grew fainter and fainter, her pretty voice labored with the struggle to grasp air. Her eyelids shut, pale lips pursed into a crooked smile. The forest elleth grasped Legolas's hand tighter, the erratic pulse the last thing she would feel before she closed her eyes.

Gazing at the starless sky, the prince sang in lament, voice clear as glass:

_An elleth warrior there was of old_

_Her hair was red as blood_

_Her skin was fair_

_With the light of stars in her eyes_

_And in the wind she went_

_As light as leaf_

_The forest maiden walked in moonlight_

_Until she passed from me_

_Through Erebor it took her_

_To find the one had been lost_

_But towards the echoing halls_

_It would lead her_

_Another path to tread_

_Tall grows the grass there_

_And silver flows the streams that guides_

_Out of doubt, out of dark_

_For her heart rested in the forest no longer..._

The lament of Tauriel ended, but the words lingered on the prince's tongue like the taste of sweet berries.

"Farewell, my _beloved_."

The wind grew still and the Woodland elleth lay still, frozen as ice, hair splaying around like the blood that covered her simple garment.

The prince broke, eyes glistening. Why must everything suffer on his behalf? Tauriel had finally come back to him but now she was gone. A thousand things flashed through his mind-stricken in this motionless instance. The faint teasing of loving encouragement. Their bright eyes as they explored the beatiful forest, long before the darkness touched and corrupted their home into the cursed Mirkwood. Singing. The joyful cries of triumph as they celebrated in victory over archery. Harsh glares. Dissaproving glances from the king. Separate patrols. The dwindling feelings of love.

"Legolas?" Estel interrupted. He knew that comforting his friend was important. "Have you never experienced death before?"

Legolas faced the ragged boy blankly. He stood up, ignoring the question, grunting at the aches covering his body. Limping away from his father and friend, he held onto a branch for support.

"Ionneg we are departing for Mirkwood." Thranduil commanded, masking his concern. He beckoned him forward. "Your injuries are worse than mine."

"We must return as well," Lord Elrond cleared his throat, bringing Estel closer to himself.

Thranduil was startled, nearly forgetting that the Rivendell elves had come to their aid. At the sight of Lord Elrond he rolled his eyes to the starless sky. He muttered curtly to the Lord, "The time of the Elves is ending. It is time to take desperate measures, I deem." He watched Elrond pause at the statement, deep in speculation.

"Do not worry my friend. I believe you will contribute a small role during the upcoming dreary days. But be wary, I warn you still."

Thranduil, trying to figure out whether his words meant insult, padded away, clutching his injury. "You have my thanks."

The Lord of Rivendell smiled briefly. Thranduil was too proud to admit his true emotions. "I shall see thee very soon and hopefully not side-by-side in war."

Pivoting, he sighed with annoyance at the sight of Estel who was obviously intrigued at the strange secretive chatter. Elrond gestured him to come, "We. Are. Departing." He gave the boy a pat but Estel did not move. "Our task here is done. You may say farewell. Now."

"I will see him again won't I?" Estel fidgeted. "I wished to see Legolas but not like this." He waved his arms towards the ruby dyed battlefield. Estel was used to death, something no one his age should be used to, but it was clear the elf prince was suffering from something more. Something deeper.

"Only time will tell ion-nin. But if you dearly care for him then you are both bound to the same fate of meeting," Lord Elrond said.

Legolas most likely had failed to recognize who Estel truly was. And if he was correct, the human and elf would bond for many more years to come. He smiled at the glum child. "I promise."

The boy beamed and scurried quickly to where Legolas weakly stood, hands clenched and drawing blood.

"Thank you for saving me." Estel whispered.

No response came from the distraught elf.

"I grieve for your loss. She was a brilliant warrior." he tried.

Legolas said nothing, staring into the sky, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. The burial would take place the following night.

"Things will get brighter." Estel pleaded. However the prince was lost in thought, vacant eyes seaching the black night, no wondrous lights in sight.

Estel then swallowed his fear. And dared to trap the elf into a suffocating hug around the waist.

Legolas jumped at the contact and he groaned in pain as something unexpectedly rattled his broken arm. "Estel daro!" His bruises ached badly and he struggled.

"Not until you say farewell to me!" Estel gently smiled, loosening his grip. At least he delivered his friend away from his mourning.

"Aye! Aye! Anything but please, release me!" Legolas fake smiled throughout the physical and mental hurting he felt. He patted the child with his one good arm in respect. "I will miss thee dearly. Even your greasy hair. Take a bath."

Estel grinned and held him warmly, no matter how much the elf protested to be let go.

After what seemed like an eternity, Legolas cringed, his injuries sore as Estel untangled his arms. "My Ada calls," Estel whispered softly. Legolas instinctively looked away. "Nay, look at me," the scraggly-haired human said, tone serious. Upset sapphire eyes met uplifting hazel ones. "Treasure my letter forever. For it is a part of my heart..."

Estel slowly walked to whhere his Ada sat upon his noble horse. He felt the elf's beautiful eyes follow him, boring into his back.

He did not cry this time. For he knew he would see his friend again. But how long until then? That he was uncertain. "This is not farewell Legolas!" Estel called as he was lifted haf-heartedly by his father. "Tenna' san'!" This departure was so soon. Too night was too dark to see but he knew deep down that his friend was slowly drifting from him. Drifting from Arda.

And Legolas was. But the elf's keen senses followed every movement, word, and smile the human offered. Deep down he knew he would not see him in a long while. That he was certain.

The Prince sighed, tucking his tussled golden hair behind his pointed ear. How he ached in many ways.

Legolas sadly watched as his only friend grew smaller and smaller into the murky distance. The sheer devastation was too much to handle, and he knew it drove him mad. As he glimpsed Tauriel's deadly daggers lying bloodied over the murky green earth, his heart fell even deeper...

"You are better off without _him_," an unexpected voice said.

Thranduil was weakly pacing about, cleansing the war scarred glade. His arm was neatly bandaged with a velvet cloth.

"Adar, how and in what way do you mean?" Legolas questioned slowly, not wanting to go against his father word at the moment. He was above the dark haze that he feared, focised more upon his weak legs supporting him than a lecture. He was on the brink of stumbling.

_Stumbling. Falling. I am weak_, he reminded himself again sadly.

"You have duties to perform and better things to tend to than 'friends'. That human would only distract you," Thranduil interrupted severely. "He would only lead you into trouble. I do not fancy seeing you hurt. Tauriel did not give up her life for you to-"

Legolas could not help it. He instantly fell into blackness at the remembrance of Tauriel's death, strength spent. Plunging to the ground, he was enveloped into startled trembling arms...

Thranduil was there to catch him in time. He worriedly called one of his guards to carry for assistance, unable to lift his son, no matter how thin Legolas was. His damadged shoulder wouldn't allow him.

"Be careful not to rouse the Prince's broken arm," Thranduil ordered severely, rapidly climbing the winding staircase up to the prince's chambers. He pushed the door open with his boot and his heart sank, remembering the last argument the two of them had held in this exact location.

Laying the prince gently on the bed, the elf and Thranduil pulled the silver-green covers up to Legolas's slowly rising chest, and the king felt his son's brow.

Strange. His forehead was burning to the touch. But Elves never grew ill, so what in Arda could this strange sorcery be?

He dismissed the guard and instantly summoned his healers to inspect the arising problem. "Mani naa ta?"

The patient elleths gently cast spells, chanting over the deep scars engraved on the prince's back. The grotesque red lash marks slowly disappeared from sight. Legolas would have them all his life, but they would stay invisible to the naked eye. As they bandaged his broken arm by wrapping a satin cloth around to keep the break together, Legolas stirred at their touch.

He was lost; within past and present.

He moaned in terro as nightmares pulstaing from Tauriel's death swirled like smoke around him. It encased him. He was plunging into a cell of chaos, tattered hair hiding his vacant eyes. Eyes fluttering like wings, the world spun and crashed against his head like a tumbling wave.

Applying pressure to the prince's erratic pulse, one healer dared to speak the truth.

"My lord, your son. He is fading."

Thranduil stopped his pacing, shocked at the simple phrase that sent a wave of goosebumps over his smooth skin. "I-I do not believe I've heard you correctly. If you lie..." the King threatened coldly.

"Heartbroken."

The Woodland Ruler blinked, something new shining in those cold eyes. A spark, a feeling of wrenching absolute terror. It gripped his soul like a claw, shattering all thoughts of anything else.

"H-how can this be? Why did he fail to inform me?" His voice lowered to a mere whisper. "Nay you are all wrong." His collected composure disappeared, revealing a furious elf of astonishment and angst. He staggered over to his son, sending the healers scattering.

Thranduil lay a smooth palm over his son's beating heart. It was pounding steady yet erratically as if Legolas was running from something. From what? Himself?

"You knew all this time yet you chose to never inform me." Thranduil grittted his teeth, heart racing although he tried to think.

Silence.

"Why?" Thranduil choked, the words torn from his throat like a blade from a wound. He lowered his head as tears formed, strands of silver hair brushing his son's eyelids. His shoulders sagged and he wept over his son's driting body.

_Don't go, I love you so._

He wept at his own stupidity and foolishness; for not paying better attention to him as he should.

He wept at the memory of how he felt when his late wife had withered away at the hands of evil, past the grey curtains.

"Tauriel." The word rolled on his tongue like a bitter curse.

She had stolen his son's heart and taken it with her beyond the grey curtains. Was there no way to cure this?

The Elven healers left their King and Prince to suffer in their own states of mind, their healing powers useless this last time. The little leaf engraved door creaked slowly behind them as they exited, a sound that concluded their patient's fate...

Maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva - Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet

Mellonamin - My friend

Daro - Stop

Tenna' san' - Until then

Mani na ta - What is it?

**Don't hate me! Lol. I apologize for those Tauriel lovers out there. xD Another cliffie but I will try to update as soon as possible!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Pretty lengthy but I actually like how this chapter turned out! It took me so long but here you go! Trying to bring Tauriel's and Legolas' relationship to an end. But then again, she would never truly be gone...**

**Chapter 17: Time Doesn't Heal**

The moon illuminated Mirkwood, engulfing the shadows into its wake, basking the night in a white light. The North wind, as fluid as water, gently blew the Prince's hair, the fine strands dancing around his face.

In his "sleep", Legolas's beauty was heartbreaking. For tranquility was definitely not what had befallen the elf's slumber. Elves were so hard and resistant to hurt, but this - this was different. Legolas's eyes were shut, fighting the evil behind his eyelids alone.

Thranduil's fingers undid his son's woven braid, delicately, the strands soft like feathers. The King of Mirkwood watched over his son all through the night, bedside, barely noticing his own health deteriorating. Thranduil's own hair acted like a veil, shielding his son's afflicted face from view.

"Hir Vuin, we must properly mend your shoulder," a healer broke the tension.

Complete and utter silence. No orders. No scolding. Only the sound of anguished heavy breathing that did not come from Legolas.

Throughout the hours, the prince turned his head every so often, in and out of consciousness, wiry arms twitching due to his nightmares.

**oOo**

_"Why do you cry?" A charming voice sounded from behind._

_Legolas sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his small hands. His beloved bow and quiver were tossed carelessly aside. "Ever since I came, the elves tease me that I am and never will be one of them. I-I am different." He clenched a fistful of his golden hair._

_A ruby haired elleth clad in green smiled at him. She did not look like much but her smile was intoxicating, making the young prince instantly forget why he was upset. He buried his face in his hands, as if he had just revealed a very important secret._

_"You **are** different." A giggle. "They're just envious of the Prince of Mirkwood."_

_Legolas looked up in surprise. "Y-you think? They despise me ever since father and I took our place in Mirkwood, for i'm not like them."_

_"What's wrong with being Sindarin? You hold so much power mellon-nin. You are the only son of the King and you could punish every one of those bullies."_

_Legolas looked up as Tauriel extended a friendly hand. Did she just call him mellon? He blushed, embarrassed at his outburst._

_"Tauriel. I wish to be a captain of the guard," she introduced._

_"Legolas Greenleaf. I am an archer and your superior," Legolas said teasingly. "If you wish to become captain, your skill must surpass mine-"_

_Abruptly, a lightning quick strike caught him unaware and he landed indignantly on his back, legs knocked out from under him. With a surprised grunt, he sank into a pile of dry red and yellow leaves._

_"I am very capable of doing so, thank you." Tauriel laughed, in attack stance for emphasis, green eyes sparkling with mirth. The sunbeams breached the leaf canopy to the forest glade, bringing out the crimson shade of her hair. It gave her a fierce determined appearance._

_"Tanya awra!" Legolas grinned, golden hair spread around him. He was beginning to like this elleth. He squealed with joy as Tauriel stole his items, wanting the prince to give chase. And he did, grateful for every minute they spent._

_Though young elflings, they flew through the unblemished leaved trees, golden and red hair glistening behind them. _

_Their newly found friendship gave them the extra push to soar like birds, their wings free to carry them wherever they dared go..._

**oOo**

After an eternity or so-it felt to-Thranduil, the King finally received a response from his son. But it was not what he expected.

Legolas groaned in delirium as the beautiful memories tormented his body and soul. His son's trembling hands clutched at the sheets, twisting them violently in his fists as a spasm vibrated throughout him, pulsating from his chest. His skin was transparently white, the moonbeams making his ivory skin look deathly ominous. Light tears welled and escaped the sides of his eyes, rolling down his face, leaving a silver trail.

Thranduil was at his side in the blink of an eye. It was no strange sight for the healers as they witnessed their King's crestfallen face. It was the same expression of woe he let loose when his wife had passed.

Legolas's eyelids fluttered as he struggled bring his mind back into reality. Reality meant pain. The excruciating stings drove his body into a flaming sensation. Legolas's blurred half-lidded eyes looked right through Thranduil, instead of focusing on him. Unfamiliar hands seized his shoulders.

"Legolas you must awaken," the King ordered severely. Thranduil continued to stroke the prince's hair, barking words in Elven tongue to snap his son out of his mind prison. "*Echuio!"

The voice was foggy, strange and tugged at the princes' memory like a long-forgotten dream. Legolas muttered an Elvish curse through gritted teeth, struggling violently against the firm hold. "Leithio nin!"

"Calm yourself and _look_ at me!" The voice was firm, commanding. It seemed oddly familiar.

Legolas began to panic, the traumatizing memories flooding his mind, the remembrance of his painful journey and torture. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, the first rays of Anor greeting him-blinding him. He hissed as the dim light temporarily stung and caused tears, waves of pain rippled throughout his _everything_.

Rare had been the occasions on which he had been at lost for words, but now Thranduil certainly was. He wished to say so many things to his fading son but he found himself that he could not.

"My king." A pause for breath. "Did I mention that I was dying?" Legolas rasped sarcastically.

"Nay," Thranduil simply stated. The corner of his mouth quirked with slight amusement. The determination of Legolas's death could not be calculated but memories could limit his days.

The healers peeked in the room, wondering if they were needed. The two ethereal beings which were so alike in beauty, was simply breathtaking, maddening. There was a deep understanding in father and son. In their blue eyes, emotions mirrored, their mind and heart alike in so many ways they did not know.

"You are not attending the burial tonight," Thranduil growled. "You are not even leaving this bed. Do you understand?"

"Aye," Legolas said looking away.

The Elvenking sighed. That was too easy. A sudden jolt of pain flashed though his shoulder, and he realized he failed to properly mend it. The action did not go unnoticed by his son's excellent eyesight, dying and all.

"Leave. I will not die in your absence. I am sure of it," Legolas said.

"That's very reassuring," Thranduil scoffed, brushing a silken strand away from his son's face. Immediately, he coughed, switching his posture into a more formal one. "Sana sina. Drink, it shall decrease the pain," He said, tone filled with concern, gently handing the prince a cup full of medicinal liquid.

Legolas placed it to his parched lips, sniffing the herby essence suspiciously as the strong odor filled his nostrils like the wetness of morn. "Amin hiraetha," he said, hiding his smirk. He pretended to take a sip, raising it and sucking the edge of the brim, the bitter smell burning his eyes like fire, and then shakily handed the foul concoction back.

The prince knew his father meant to knock him out with a sleeping potion. Luckily, Thranduil was surrounded by concerned Elven healers that he missed the action.

Legolas's leaned his head back, closing his eyes, trying to convince his father that the potion was taking affect. It worked. Thranduil sighed sadly and closed the door behind him. He turned on his heels, making sure not to disturb the Prince as he departed.

As soon as the door closed, the Prince took out the necklace his father had given him. He stared at its breathtaking beauty, holding the shimmering stones in the palm of his hand.

_It is a symbol of love. I hope you will accept it from me._

_Although you do not mean your words with all your heart, I do. Always, my king_. _Amin mela lle..._

As he adjusted his position, something crinkled in his tunic pocket. _Estel's letter!_ He frantically scanned the bloodstained parchment, reading it once-twice-three times. "Aragorn," Legolas repeated. He never finished the task assigned to him, but instead made a friend. He smiled genuinely, ache lessening a little. The name sounded slightly familiar.

Nothing came to mind so he lay his head back to finally rest, content beyond measure...

**oOo**

Thranduil wandered through the dreary woods, head bent down in shame and despair, eyes averted to the ground. The trees of Mirkwood were entirely leafless and seemed so foul, rotten within them. He felt no comfort among the bare trees. They made him feel as if the forest had fallen into death, a dark slumber like his son.

Wherever he tread he could not escape his guilt. Everything led back to him. Twice he had pointed a sword at his most loyal warrior, his sword unwavering. But it was his sheer concious that prevented the final stroke. Now she was dead and because of this Legolas was fading from grief.

The wandering king was lost in a timeless void, lingering in a world long forgotten. Perhaps his destiny was to also fade, fade from sorrow like his son, to leave the shores never to return. It was certain. If Legolas died, there was nothing left for the King. He would gladly follow his Leaf past the grey curtains and beyond.

_If this is love, I don't want it. Take it away please! Why does it hurt so much!_

He shook his head as the phrase lingered...

As the day wore on, night grew closer. Thranduil had spent the last few hours withering away in the forest when he remembered the burial. Hands behind back, he watched the decorated lights flicker as they placed Tauriel and his other brave warriors' bodies into stone coffins behind locked chambers. They were decorated beautifully, patterned with vines and leaves. And Tauriel; she was so beautiful in death, her red hair woven and embroidered with flowers. Tauriel's spirit was finally free to meet Kili in the halls of Mandros.

Thranduil was glad the prince could not see her as the elves gently placed the cover over her, shielding her from sight for forever. Little did he know that Legolas at the exact same moment was watching as well...

Legolas watched from above, cringing with pain but determined to see Tauriel, his childhood friend, for the last time. He memorized every detail, every feature, into his mind before they lasted her to rest. Ai Valar, she looked as if she could be asleep. He had shared with her everything; his mother, his feelings, their laughter. And now, she had left him, chose someone other than himself to love. Yet in the end she chose to die for him. His eyes, watery, closed as he bowed is head. In one hand, he clutched the glistening necklace and in the other, a crumpled letter for comfort.

Hearing light footsteps approaching, he fled to his room, flopping onto the bed with a low groan. The ceiling spun for a few seconds. He was just in time as Thranduil himself walked in.

"Ah. You are awake," The Kings eyes darted over the trembling prince.

"Aye, it seems I am."

Thranduil looked away nervously, feeling rather awkward. "Well, I was wondering if you join me hunting during the patrols morrow. It seems you have healed except for your heart. If I may, I wish to spend time with you to help."

Legolas sighed. When would his father learn. Thranduil only wished to spend time to keep him from fading, never before. Well, it was a start and it certainly was stating something. "I will accept your offer. I guess we could say that we are turning over a new leaf."

"Indeed." Thranduil smirked and bowed his head in recognition. Perhaps this could be the right amount of medicine his son needed. He leaned down low, silky hair entwining with his son's. He looked into those crystal clear eyes that reflected his own emotions.

"My lord?" Legolas's voice hitched, heart stopped. He watched, in awe as his arrogant father inched closer.

"To better days." Thranduil elegantly opened his arms wide.

Legolas nodded stiffly, taken aback by the act. He clung to his fathers arms for support. Sitting up, delicate fingers ran through his hair. He could not believe that his father was giving up his dignity and pride to display such affection. Surely he was mad. Where was the cold hearted Thranduil he had come to know as king?

"Your mother was not the only one who _loved_ you."

Legolas frowned, the word love used in past tense. His thoughts disappeared however as his fathers' icy mask fell, replaced by one of warmth and kindness?

Amin mella lle..." Thranduil calmly whispered into his ear. He brought his face lower to plant a kiss on his son's brow.

"My liege-" an unamiliar voice echoed.

Thranduil whipped around immediately, eyes ablaze with blue fire. His chance to redeem himself destroyed. "What could be so important as to disturb me right this second?"

"Ahem well, I brought the tea you ordered," an elf carrying a silver tray said. " I apologize if I have killed the moment."

Thranduil's mood drastically changed, heat of ire flushing his face red. "The moment is not the only thing going to be killed today." he muttered, glaring at the elf, clearly annoyed. "You could have mentioned it sooner." he said, resuming his usual presence.

"You only gave me the chance to utter one word." the elf muttered under his breath, handing the tea to the royals.

"Two words." Thranduil corrected lazily.

Legolas smirked; the atmosphere was disturbed. However, did truth lie in that simplephrase? Or was it just an illusion?

"Adar it's quite alright. I will join thee." he responded, tapping his chin, pretending to think hard.

The Elvenking nodded apologetically. Tea in hand, he strode out the door. Before closing it, he gave his son one last look of pure sorrow. Of love. His son would not fade on his behalf. He would make sure of it...

**oOo**

The leaves changed from brown to green and from orange to brown. And the Prince and King of Mirkwood spent their days together hunting, day and night, years passing in the blink of an eye. For they were elves. Immortal. Time mattered not.

Legolas's shattered heart patched bit by bit like puzzle pieces connecting with every hunt. The challenges of killing fell beasts, brought Legolas and Thranduil closer even though they rarely spoke to one another, preferring the silence.

The prince would rise with the sun, dress, and depart for the forest where his father and patrol would be waiting. And the same routine went on and on. But some days, he felt like a heavy burden to the King, as if he was begging for attention with jealousy.

On a new elk (a gift from Mithrindir), the Elvenking would rarely offer attention to Legolas as they rode, other than simple commands and strategies. Not since the day he had offered his final attempt of affection. Darkness stirred in the East and everyone could sense it. Because of this, Thranduil was always busy, responding to ill-news as times grew harsher. Some days he even failed to come. He would only send word that he regretted missing their time together but that his schedule was full with business to tend to.

Such was the life of a ruler.

Legolas knew it was childish and foolish to sulk, but he could not help the emotions bottled up within himself. And thus, he released them under dark, to the cold walls that enclosed him.

Deep down the elf prince knew that his broken heart could never be put together, the pieces disperesed throughout the lies and desolation that stole them.

But he told no one. The feelings of loneliness still lingered like an aftertaste. A nightmare unable to run from.

For days on end, he attempted himself to lose himself among the cedars, the void in him increasing.

Sometimes he would remain standing as ice, silent for hours at the edge of the border, wanting nothing more than to race across the vast sea of grass to the friend who had left him in suspense.

But his father had chained him well, caging his thoughts of fleeing with threats of all kinds imaginable, the dangers that lay beyond their fortress his reason.

The elf longed for his friend Estel, thinking of him every wakeful minute, and even in dreams, remembering their meaningful time spent. How was the human faring? Why had Estel left him? To cherish the time alone with his father?

Perhaps the boy had long forgotten him by now. His heart sank, a hundred times lower at the thought. Without him, he no longer enjoyed Arda and all that its lush forests had to offer.

An elf who felt naught for the trees of his home.

He scoffed. Thranduil would not hesitate to kill him on the spot if he ever heard Legolas say it from his own mouth.

**oOo**

Only when Thranduil sent couriers demanding his son's immediate return behind closed doors, did the king notice Legolas's light flicker on the brink of darkness. Thranduil would say nothing for several weeks, frightened in essance of the past repeating, only observing his son's hair bleach like snow, his skin far too pale to be healthy.

Over the ten year span, though his bond with Legolas grew with every hunt, it was obvious it failed to mend his son's heart effectively. Surely it was time to resort to desperate matters now and Thranduil would do just that.

So when the day came that the King revealed the news that Estel would be visiting, his own soul softened as his Legolas's spirits rose with delight. He saw his son spark once again with the fires of hope...

hir Vuin - My lord

Echuio - Wake up

Leithio nin - Release me

Tanya awra - That hurt

Sana sina - Take this

Amin hiraetha - Thank you

Amin mela lle - I love you

**What do you guys think? Thanks for reading. Phew. :) Estel will be older in the next one. Perhaps I am moving too fast...**


	18. Chapter 18

**I haven't updated in a while because I have been busy with getting one year older and contest entries. Anyways, this is a little lengthy to make up for it. Thanks for reading! :)**

**Chapter 18: Calm Before The Storm**

The Spring day was overcast, the water trickling and dampening the earth lightly.

Inside Mirkwood's palace, the atmosphere grew chilly with uneasiness and Legolas grew edgy.

"E-Estel will arrive in a few hours?"

"I know you heard me correctly..." the Elvenking scolded. His son's consolation lessened his worry, but he couldn't help the flush of loathing as Legolas enlivened at the mention of _Estel_.

"Aye but I thought you to jest."

Thranduil's lips quirked and closed his eyes in an effort not to speak more than needed. The elegant throne room reflected his royal presence, demonstrating his powerful his ability to have complete control over all who entered. He cocked his head to one side, hands gracefully swept behind his back. "You obviously do not know me very well."

Legolas stopped his inquisition instantly. The small phrase stung more than he could imagine and he bowed his head, blinking away the phrase that tortured him so.

Although he knew his father deeply cared for him, his forbidding personality arose with being a ruler.

"It is simply a lot for me to take in." Legolas huffed indignantly, thrown off gaurd with the surprise. He couldn't decide whether to feel distressed or ecstatic. However, his erratic heartbeat confirmed the answer. Pale face sparking, a warm flush was gradually restoring the his face to its usual porcelain colour. Noticing, Thranduil softened his strong gaze slightly.

"May I ask why he is visiting?" Legolas questioned.

"Business propositions nothing more," Thranduil responded abruptly. He turned away as if the statement was an obvious answer. "However, Lord Elrond has provided me with a small piece of information that you may enjoy. The human has fulfilled his destiny as healer." Thranduil leaned forward, residing face-to-face with his son. "It seems that it was you who convinced him to pursue that path."

Legolas looked up, giving his father a wide-eyed stare. "How so?"

"When taken in, Estel wished to learn to love all things that grow and heal all that seemed lost. Your...bond has confirmed that dream," The elvenking said through gritted teeth.

Thranduil strode across the stone floor, lost in the deep void of the mind. "Meaning to connect with others and heal through compassion. He is a remarkable being, almost similar to tales I have heard about Strider..." Thranduil said, chin held high, his presence a cold one.

"I shall take my leave of you then," Legolas managed to choke out, his heartened emotions drifting away like the retreating tide.

As the King walked away, he didn't seem to hear his son.

"Instead of joy, I feel nothing Adar..." Legolas whispered to the silent room.

In solitude once more, Legolas walked away, heading in the direction of his comforting chambers. The prince's thoughts gyrated over and over in his head, teasing and mocking him with the tainted past.

Would an older Estel feel the same for him?

Would he have changed?

Legolas's face hardened as he disappeared behind closed doors, his vacant room for company. The grim atmosphere did naught to assist the elf in any known way.

Instead, he sank down to the cold floor, his back leaning in support against the birch door. He curling up like an elfling, the position he always resorted to when saddened.

After all this time he had felt as if he were imprisoned behind palace walls, soul slowly crumbling piece by piece. Making amends with his father had given him hope, but it was not quite enough. He sobbed uncontrollably to the silent tapestries of his chambers. O Valar! Why must fate make me suffer so? Why?!

Hours dragging by like days, he brushed his hair until it shone like glittering stars in his ill-lit room. What should he wear? His silver garment or regular lush tunic? Rummaging throughout his wardrobe, he sighed, chest growing heavy with the past anxiety. Slipping on his usual green outfit, he ran a hand down the side of his smooth face, feeling his own warmth radiating from his skin. The touch confirmed his existence. That he was alive.

Wanting peace among the grave trees, he sneaked outside, scurrying up the first tree within sight. Laying his head back against the bark, he closed his eyes, the melody of the forest fighting the shadows that lured him. His hands stroked the moss that lined the tree, its fluffy texture comforting.

Fading into submission he remembered Estel's joyous face during their last well-spent archery practice together. A memory so vivid that he could summon it in his dreams if he wished. A good memory...

**oOo**

The wind and rain sprayed against the rugged man's wavy locks, sending mud and grit everywhere.

High above a Rivendell courtyard statue, Aragorn could see the muggy horizon. Mirkwood's forest was a sliver of green over the long distance nearly impossible to see.

He rubbed his sleep deprived eyes, the stress heavy.

Never was the day when he hadn't spent time thinking about his dear friend. Legolas had lain troubled whilst he had spent the past ten years content with his father. But nevertheless he still experienced multiple nightmares on his account.

"Aragorn!" A voice called.

The human turned at his name. "Yes my lord?"

Lord Elrond sighed and fiddled with his gold ring. "There is someone you must meet before departing. I believe it is about time and it may enlighten you in some way." He smiled warmly but Aragorn could see the trace of secrecy lying behind his distant gaze.

"Who my lord?"

"Come. And you will see," Lord Elrond beckoned.

Aragorn nodded and paced curiously after his father, boots resounding against the polished floor. Lord Elrond led him near the east side of the courtyard to a closed wooden door.

Elrond beamed proudly. "Meet my daughter. You have never met her before because she has been visiting her grandmother for the past few years."

Pushing open the heavy door, Elrond revealed a beautiful elleth wearing a blue dress that reflected like stars. The very air seemed to glow where she sat elegantly by an open window, book in hand. Surprised, she dropped it, only to be swept up by Aragorn himself.

"Adar? What-" Her dainty voice stopped as she lay eyes on the handsome intruder. "I was not expecting a guest." She smiled, her pretty face lighting up more-if that was even possible.

"My lady." Aragorn dropped his awestruck stare at once, immediately bowing in respect. "We have never met before. I am Aragorn son of Arathorn. What is thy name?"

"Arwen Undomiel," she breathed, setting her book aside.

Her coral lips, so lovely, struck the human out of his trance. She blushed slightly and curtsied, her long wavy hair falling past her breast, outlining her slender frame. "So this is the man you have been speaking fondly of father." She stole a glance at the Lord of Rivendell.

"It was time, since Aragorn has come of age," Elrond chuckled.

Aragorn frowned at the statement. Was the Lord of Rivendell implying something? She was very captivating but the occasion was rather forced and sudden. Too sudden.

"Alas, we are departing for Mirkwood Arwen. Thranduil himself has requested our presence," Lord Elorond explained to the elleth, growing graver with every passing second. "It seems the Prince is masking his true well-being and requires assistance from far more experienced healers."

He bit his tongue to prevent a laugh. The wrath of Thranduil would be the death of him. Coughing, he motioned to an expressionless Aragorn.

The man exhaled a breath. He had replayed those last words over and over, ever since receiving the news two hours prior to meeting the elleth. It had fixed itself into his skull, filling his insides with worry. Legolas could never be cured with ordinary herbs, for surely the elf held too much pride.

Such a stubborn elf...

He chuckled at the thought. Did the elf long for his presence as he did? Although it was oh so long ago that they had seen each other?

"Aragorn? Is something troubling you?" Arwen's sweet voice filled the air breaking the silence. "If you worry for Legolas, your dismay is not helping in any way."

"A-ah no my lady. Your words are truth..." Aragorn looked away, the flawless elleth's face reminding him of the elf prince and king he remembered faintly.

"Please excuse us, but we must depart at once. I am sure you understand." He motioned Lord Elrond, leaving the gorgeous elf clad in blue to herself in the empty room once more. "Pleasure meeting you..."

Aragorn felt guilt stab him as the heavy door closed behind them. Her beauty was simply breathtaking; a breath of fresh misty air during the grey days of Spring rain.

However he directed his concern to the future and his task ahead, relaxing. Mind only fixed on his one true friend, he mounted his steed alongside Elrond and they disappeared into the sunshine, hoping to arrive among the gnarled trees of Mirkwood soon.

"Mellon, please do not attempt anything rash without me..."

**oOo**

"Legolas. We are heading to the gate." A firm voice rang like a warning chime throughout the palace. When no response came, Thranduil knocked on his son's door, the brittle sound echoing hollowly. Odd. Where was Legolas?

The Mirkwood ruler walked out of the halls, ignoring the gossiping elves. Descending down stairs and traveling through somber halls, he headed towards the gate and mounted his ornate elk. He stared hard at the trees that he knew concealed his son.

Legolas meanwhile shuddered as wet leaves brushed against him, the water droplets caressing his skin. The tranquil rustling and swaying of trees calmed his hammering heartbeat. O' how time moved so slow...

**oOo**

Continuing his travels through Mirkwood with Lord Elrond, Aragorn heard the slightest rustling of branches overhead. Birds weren't heavy enough to make such a noise and spiders were much too immense and less graceful. Ah! He knew exactly what it was!

Smirking, Aragorn jumped off his horse and nimbly climbed the tree. Lord Elrond chuckled and shook his head at his son's high spirits showing due to the circumstance.

**oOo**

Pondering whether Aragorn would look the same or not, Legolas nearly fell over as something unexpected grabbed his shoulders, the veil of light rain blurring his keen vision. What was happening? Where were his weapons when he needed them? Startled, his heart stopped as his eyesight adjusted and was found face to face with a man's grinning face. The man clad in a brown mantle gave him a crooked smile and lowered his head. He had stringy yet wavy hair that had probably not been washed for days and the grit on his clothes was oddly familiar.

Estel.

Estel!

"Nae saian luume'," the unshaved man said warmly. The human's eyes were a deep shade of brown, like the dirt that muddled his ragged clothing.

Legolas exhaled as he made eye contact with Estel, for standing in front of him was not a boy but a muscular rugged man. Hands at his side, Legolas willed himself to appear disciplined and regal at the same time. Why was he worried about his looks? Legolas flushed, knowing the answer but passing it off that proper etiquette was needed since he was of royalty.

"Est-Aragorn, you look well."

Aragorn smiled, "Your beauty shines bright. And you may call me whatever you wish. My name matters little."

Oh how wrong he was, thought Legolas. His chest palpitated with a nervousness that was not fitting for an elf of supposed high composure.

After a long moment, Aragorn held out his hand. "Have you missed me mellon-nin?"

Legolas stared at it a second before reaching out to take it, sliding his hand over the larger mans' warmer, calloused one. "More than you know," the prince whispered under his breath. He could feel the mans' pulse throbbing against his hand as if struggling to escape. The distinct scent of fresh Spring rain clung to the man's clothing along with mossy grime on his hand, indicating that he had been traveling hard. Legolas instinctively pulled back, the shock that Estel was here making him jumpy.

"Do I smell that bad?" Aragorn snorted.

"It is a possibility. But you have always smelt terrible." Legolas replied teasingly.

Suddenly a voice as clear and sharp as glass, whistled through the air. "Come down both of you please," the Elvenking said coldly, his tone metallic. Thranduil and Lord Elrond's faces came into view as they peered up at the two beings seated atop the tree.

"So that was where you were hiding," Thranduil smirked.

"Aye," Legolas started cautiously. "I feel calm among the trees. Adar, may I show Aragorn to his spare chamber?"

"Yes. Leave." Thranduil permitted curtly, without turning his head. The two lords left their sons to acquaint themselves, Thranduil going back to reluctantly showing Lord Elrond around the grounds. Their long robes fanned out behind them, growing heavy and moist with increasing rainfall.

Aragorn sneaked a small peek at the Elvenking, taking the time to study the haughty elf that looked so much like his son. Thranduil was like a diamond. Cold, hard and rich. He was formidable even, not a heartless stone but very much alive with mixed emotions bottled up, waiting to erupt in temper at any time. He could see where the prince got his seriousness from.

"Come," Legolas offered, jumping down and heading towards the palace. He watched the human's every movement. Aragorn was so different in flesh and appearance yet the same in heart and soul. Unintentionally, Legolas found himself with a small smile. All was silent and still, the only noise the low murmur of rain.

"So...Legolas, have you found an elleth to wed yet? Surely you have come of age?" Aragorn asked cautiously.

Legolas snickered smugly. "You humour me. I have no interest in such matters and I have been of age for quite some time. Although far younger than most, there was one other nearly the same age as me..." Instantly, the Prince's face fell like a sudden drop in a birds flight.

"Oh. Never mind..." Aragorn said quickly. Changing the subject, his eyes rose to the impressive sight and asked Legolas, "For some time, I believed you to live above the trees, not underground like dwarves." Not giving the stunned elf to revoer, he added, "Or is this place meant to give the impression of such a place?"

Casting an annoyed glare of disgust, Legolas answered, "My father inherited this palace, although hard, the structure unyielding to the outside world. For many a day, have these elves never lain eyes on the bright land beyond this kingdom," Legolas said stiffly. Describing the stronghold, he continued, "There are many layers and levels to these grand halls, so do thy best not to lose yourself during your stay." The elf curled his lip into a smirk. "Or is it not possible for you to do so, knowing your reckless behavior."

Refusing to answer, Aragorn shot him a dark look before returning to admiring such royalty even his home lacked, although he would not admit it.

Trekking throughout halls in utter silence, their breathing in sync, the duo paused as they reached their desitnation. Upon reaching the spare chamber, Legolas stopped the man from entering with an icy glower.

"What is the real reason behind your meeting?"

"Ah well, business nothing more. On Lord Elrond's order of course. Commerce is very impor-"

"You lack the skills to lie," Legolas's replied, usual smooth voice rising.

"Legolas-" Aragorn sighed.

"I know you are far more observant than most. You know of the shadow that haunts my heart, am I correct? That is the real reason my father has seeked both of you." He tilted his head, his question confirmed as Aragorn ran a hand through his wavy hair. "Bard the Dragonslayer collects goods. That job is not your own."

"Perhaps," Aragorn said slowly, not wanting things to get out of hand.

"What have you been doing all these years?" Legolas struggled to keep himself calm.

"I would have come but father has filled me in on my childhood and other matters." Aragorn gritted his jaw on the last part, hoping the elf wouldn't take it as insult. The truth was that he was aware of his true identity for nearly one moon and he knew that fulfilling his destiny as a King of Gondor was of great importance. But he didn't feel comfortable revealing that bit of information to anyone yet. "And also Elrond wishes me to marry an elleth since I am now of twenty years."

"I see." Legolas sighed, sliding his slender fingers throughout his golden head. "Your loyalties lie in your fathers' wishes but not your own decisions." The prince looked away, sorrow clouding his mind. "You favor your duty ahead of others who have missed you dearly." Although barely a whisper, Legolas's voice was stern. "I could not visit, my father the reason. You do not understand how much I've missed you-your presence."

Aragorn, fed up with their bitter exchange, pinned the broken elf to the wall, fingers digging into his back to hold the strong elf in place. "Legolas please listen. What has happened to you?! You speak ill of my thoughts and decisions but if it really bothers you so, I am here to help you!"

The elf winced at the sudden pain that flared from his back, haunting memories arising like a freshly brewing storm. But it was the tone of his old friend that shattered his heart to pieces, the fierceness biting more than any whip he could endure.

"Amin-hiraetha," Aragorn whispered softly, releasing his too harsh grip. "Please mellon I wish some sense could register in your mind. I have missed thee as well."

Legolas exhaled, the sharp pain lessening as Aragorn let go. The human's last statement made the pain slightly bearable.

"A-Aye I'm sorry I grew upset," Legolas apologized. "Its just that...all these years. Not once..." Pushing past a startled Aragorn, he strode away, emotionless like the cold blue moon. "Your room is there. Ask my father for further questions."

"Legolas! Daro, there is much I desire to speak with you!"

The prince stopped as a rough hand gripped his shoulder tight yet gently. "We must catch up on things," Aragorn pleaded, recognition emanating from his expression. "Although you are immortal, I am not."

Legolas smiled, heartened a bit although he would not show it. "Aragorn, I am glad you have come, truly glad. Tenna' tul're san'."

Wrenching his arm with ease away from the human, he continued walking through the halls to locate his forbidding father. He could feel Aragorn's strong gaze burning a hole in his back as he departed. However he needed some time to think. Legolas chuckled to himself. Aragorn would probably follow him soon.

Halting outside his father's chambers, he hesitantly paced about, unsure whether to knock. His sharp hearing picked up faint talking and he peeked through the slightly ajar door...

"Your presence is appreciated." Thranduil said, stroking the left side of his smooth face. "The years have done nothing much to improve. He reminds me too much of her that it causes me grief. Although we both dhide it well, we hold much secrets from each other."

"Well, you could start by telling Legolas of your past," Lord Elrond suggested. "Tell him the tale of your encounter with the serpents of the North. Then begin with explaining the murder of the quee-"

"Do not speak of her!" Thranduil snarled, his rage erupting. At once, the side of his face vanished, the remnants of the spell disappearing like a ghost, revealing the grotesque burns and tendons beneath the fair skin.

Legolas could not withhold the gasp that followed. What in the Valar happened to his father's face? He suddenly realized that the noise escaped to loudly and he staggered backwards as his father threw open the door.

"What, are you doing here?! How dare you eavesdrop on your King!" Thranduil growled, teeth bared like a wolf. He rapidly covered his face with his hand, shaking with a terrible rage.

"I was just coming to report to you-" Legolas stuttered, unable to comprehend what he just witnessed

"Ego! I do not care for whatever you have to say! Sii'! You have heard and seen too much!" Seething with a cold ferocity, the Elvenking's dark eyebrows furrowed. The King stalked away from him, filled with ire, ushering Lord Elrond outside before shutting his door shut with an echoing bang.

Legolas pivoted, confusion and shock written all over his features. His mind was hazy, unfocused and although he willed to musture his father's flawless image, the process failing horribly. If it wasn't for the slight bump of the shoulders, he would have walked past his worried friend.

"What troubles you?"

Aragorn reached out to him, but Legolas easily evaded his grasp, sprinting the rest of the way to his room. Locking the door behind him, he stalked to his balcony, a light drizzle dripping and painting tears on his porcelain face. His hair, damp with the falling rainwater, fell messily, a sight not fit for a prince. But Legolas did not care. The faint ache in his chest stirred, like an old enemy awakening from the dead.

Aragorn knocked softly on his door, asking for entrance. "Let me in please?"

Legolas relaxed, letting his friend inside and leading him to the balcony. "This was not how this day was supposed to end. Not in the slightest." the prince said sadly to Aragorn. There was more. So much more to his agony, but he lost the will to speak of it.

Aragorn laid a hand on the elf's back where he had caused pain before. "Often, there are times of pain in everyones' life but there is always a ray of light to guide you and warm you like hot tea."

Legolas could not help the small snicker. He was genuinely happy that his friend was here before him, comforting him as he once did. "It seems that someone has been spending their time wisely." Legolas mocked. "Your wisdom will be taken for granted. Thank you."

Aragorn bowed dramatically. "Anything for you, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas sighed. It was as if a large weight had been lifted off his chest, all turmoil and chaos vanishing, with just the simple exchange. The two persons stood side by side on the balcony, with the pitter-patter of the light rainfall as a soothing lullaby to wash away the dark.

Legolas fidgeted, ears twitching in response to the descending droplets, pondering over how the wrath of his father would come into play later. Tears burned his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. It mattered not. This beautiful scene and loyal friend for company was the calm before the storm.

Turning so that he could face Aragorn, he smiled, gracefully waving his hand as a direct order. "Actually, hot tea would be nice..."

Nae saian luume - It has been too long

Amin-hiraetha - I'm sorry

Daro - stop

Tenna' tul're san' - Until tomorrow then

Ego - Leave

Sii' - now

**I apologize for not updating sooner but I have been booked with multiple things. Anyways, will**** Legoas be able to face his overbearing father alone or with his trusted friend by his side? To be continued...**


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